He means good but all I can think today is it’s hot and my hip hurts. Our skin is fried dark brown. It’s so dry and dirty it’s itchy from tiny sand grains you can or can’t see. We smell like period blood. He told me to go pick something in the gift shop. Maybe I could, they have lovely dragonfly and butterfly pendant/chain necklaces. But what use would a trinket hold in these conditions?
I have purple and pink hair. I have a new button-up wine coloured top and henna designs all up and down the length of my left arm. I have a black heart velvet choker around my neck, from my birthday at my parents’. My appearance is as taken care of as it should even reasonably get.
When I’m bored and hot like this, sometimes I wish I could make things with fabric or beads. Craft my bag up a bit. It is my home, after all. Like a turtle shell, or the Big Comfy Couch of accumulated goods.
Looking forward to sunset. Maybe I’ll practice my ukulele some more? I’m not very good at it but I can play a recognizable tune with a half-clumsy strum. Prefer to stay slow-mo than to trip going faster than my level.
It’s 4pm. As I’m carving a circle-shaped cardboard sign for my giant smiley face (with a handle for my backpack straps) a van ACTUALLY STOPS. We’ve been in (this town) all day, baking in the sun. It usually doesn’t take an entire day to get a ride. This van has
A(fucking)C! I’m wearing a god damn hoodie, and a smile wide like that new Joker character.
Boss looks like scooby doo.