Pink Pussies:
rotten things in cups that will make you bruise your hipbones, lose your phone, and forget where you live.
Nate drove me home, Greg called Stef, and Stef came to my house so that I wouldn’t have to “die alone.”
She marveled at the destruction in my bathroom: I had knocked down my curtain and knocked everything off of my shelves. She listened to me puke and monitored my shower while she called around to piece together the hour of mystery in my life last night. She rules.
