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[11thstreet]

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[11thstreet]

[in between one thing and nothing at all (look, he's still working off getting really fucked up and apparently missing some freddy krueger come to life bullshit in the process because he's not twenty-five anymore), chris squints this text. he turns his phone to the side and does it again. and again.

finally:]

Are you Bob?

Just wondering, because I'm still not convinced he's actually a real person

[maybe he'd think that someone named bob wouldn't make their name a fucking butterfly emoji, but maybe it's not his place to judge that, is it? butterfly emojis can belong to anyone. see, that's growth.]

[haggle]

( kindergarten teachers will tell you there's no such thing as a stupid ass question. men keep working overtime to disprove that theory to her. nicotine clogs her lungs on the next inhale, windpipe choked around cigarette smoke. )

holy shit. bob????
be so fucking for real. do i look like i bottom

( context clues point to no. )

ok
do a mental ranking of the hottest strangers you clocked at the breakfast
review the top bitch
that's who you're talking to

[11thstreet]

I wanna say no?
That's kind of what I'm getting that you want me to lean toward

[did he get that right? he's gonna assume he got that right.

and now he's going to rotate faces in his head, just like he's been asked to. it's not as easy as butterfly emoji makes it sound, because there are a lot of hot people here, he's just saying.]

Are you telling me you're a hot chick?
A hot chick who knows Adrian?

[a hot chick who spoke to adrian without his presence? jesus fucking christ what is the world coming to]