Saturday, November 23

Kind of fine

It's sort of kind of fine that you are pressing against my bottom next to the rubbish bin while I'm trying to savour a Cornish pastry. It is kind of sort of fine that you pretend not to notice that you are dribbling all over me. All over my new vintage vinyl bag that I love so much. All over my new golden brooch, all over my fury collar that never sighs. 

It's sort of kind of fine that you are fine.

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