The smell of sweet cinema popcorn.
The last possibility of T wearing an oversized MGS uniform for a first-day-of-school photo.
A tailbone well enough to withstand roll-ups, Russian twists and crunches.
The confidence of flea markets and shoddily-made jewelry and namecards.
Having a travel list that assumed Europe would be ticked someday.
Baby fat.
Company.
No comments:
Post a Comment