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You're watching the condensation slide down your glass, wondering if the humidity in this valley is personal or just seasonal.
You tasted like copper and rain and that cheap lime seltzer you’d been nursing since the sun went down over the main stage.
I knew I was over the line the second I saw her in that white dress, looking like a target I wasn't allowed to hit.
The city at three AM has the same hollow resonance as a hollow-body guitar played unplugged—all vibration and no projection.