why should i love you?
low light complimented by tall, sexy glasses full of amber liquid sum up the night.
i find myself jammed on a bench, my right side snug against kate as she talks to morgen in that comfortable way they have between them, words extended through gesture, eye movement, and history. to my left is peter, shoulders awkwardly hunched [as are mine, to accomodate everyone on the long bench], who, through the course of the evening, continues to make alarmingly hilarious comments about cheese and the like.
despite the uncharacteristically cold night- which almost demands socks and shoes- i leave feeling warm from the base of my toes to the tips of my hair.
my room is quiet, folk music on in the background.
i'm as readable as a book, i fear.