Monday morning laundry run and the spin cycle's been going long enough that I stopped pretending I'm just here for clean clothes. Tell me you'd come find me.
Monday morning laundry run and the spin cycle's been going long enough that I stopped pretending I'm just here for clean clothes. Tell me you'd come find me.
Saturday night and I'm on the living room floor losing at this game in a shirt that stopped being a shirt about an hour ago. Tell me you'd go easy on me.
Rolled out my mat in the quietest corner of the park and the afternoon sun went straight through this top before I noticed. Tell me you'd have kept walking.
My kitchen looks like a flour bomb went off and I haven't even shaped the first bun yet. Tell me you'd stay for breakfast.
Thursday nights are for wine on the kitchen counter and shirts that gave up on buttons. Tell me what you'd do if you walked in right now.
International Sudoku Day and I've been staring at the same square for ten minutes. The sweater gave up on my shoulder about five minutes ago and I didn't even notice. Bet you could break my concentration faster than this puzzle.
Couldn't sleep so I let myself into the building's pool and now I've got the whole thing to myself. The water does that thing where it feels like it's holding you up and pulling you under at the same time. Tell me you'd dive in.
Found out it's National Read a Book Day and I've been curled up in this chair long enough to lose all feeling in my legs. The book's getting good but I keep reading the same page. Tell me you'd be worth putting it down for.
Someone's expecting me and I'm still in the bath with no plans to move. Being late on purpose might be my favorite thing I've tried all week. Tell me you wouldn't rush me.
The wildlife hide was supposed to be for watching birds, but being this alone in the woods does things to me. Want to see what happened when I gave up on waiting?