The phone rang and rang, louder than I ever recall hearing it. It sounded like a cathedral bell was right next to my head with a little hunchback swinging and yelling. My head was about the split open, and it wouldn’t stop. I took out my revolver, gave the phone one warning, and then shot it.
The bang hurt even worse. I’m a fucking retard.
Totally What’s Happening
Big Tag Words1Q84 100 days project 365 project bed books card cards chatting with The Boy colorado correspondence depression face fear food friends handwriting project Haruki Murakami Kevyn kitten letter letters Lily links love mail truck Me vs. The Queue movies personal correspondence poetry postcard postcards postcrossing random Reading school self-portrait sendsomething sex stamps stationery The Boy video Vivian Wedgehead writing
The Stuff From Before