The tempest of my thoughts, contained in a simple page.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Dear Davis,

I am typing this on your laptop and you're currently staring at me with an expression that is a mix of bewilderment, annoyance, and something that's utterly charming. I'm sorry to do this to you, but you did ask for it. You can't just bring things up to tantalize me and then not tell me what you mean. So this is the only way I can think of to get back at you.

My position on the very edge of the chair is rather uncomfortable, but you refuse to stop watching me type, so I have to shield the laptop from your view.

I know the library is supposed to foster productivity, but so far it's only fostered daydreaming. It's all your fault.

Also: cinnamon buns.

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