The sun rose. They watched the dying embers of the fire and reminisced about drugs they had taken. And realized they hadn’t forgotten enough

Years later, he would call the evening “incindiary.” Though his friends would just remember a night of lies. And the smell of burning pants.

He feels pain and then he doesn’t and then he does again. And then she says, You eat too much. But the pain has nothing to do with the food.

They met finally, after years of correspondence, and he was thrilled and said so and she was less thrilled and said, I don’t like your face.

And then the day came to a close. And he lied his way into the club and hurt his lips kissing a girl. And turned into a pumpkin at midnight.