ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ (ᴩᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ)

Outside the window.

Let's just say it's neither a barbecue nor the Bay Area fog.

A random song that came on shuffle.

You died.
You wake up.
What do you see?

The monster that killed me.

Five things that remind me of home:

Sand
Old signage
When the sun gets in my eyes at a certain angle while I'm walking up to a street corner.
Nights.
Driveways

The last time you told someone no.

A few hours ago, when someone asked me if something had happened.

The last thing you bought.

The shades, not the girl.

My inner child would love to be on a rocketship this weekend. (So I will.)

This warm feeling.

This past summer.

Something a friend recently said that made me laugh:

“I’ll wipe your tears”

Where the world ends there is a comics and coffee shop where a really cute girl works.

The last mistake you made.

I small spooned and it was a little too comfortable.

The last thing you said to a child.

“We'll have to ask your sister tomorrow.”