(no subject)
So I was reading "It was not death, for I stood up" to my family at dinner. Note to self, never read poetry to your parents ever again. But anyway, I set my poetry packet on the kitchen island whilst I did the dishes with my brother. Half way into the process, my elbow bumps the poetry packet. It flutters off the island.....down.....down....into the most conveniently placed trash can I have ever seen in my entire life.
I stared for a few moments before sighing and retreiving it.
My night is better now.
I stared for a few moments before sighing and retreiving it.
My night is better now.