𓅯｡𖦹° 10.08.26 thinking of sitting at the table by the window with my sister at elm coffee in seattle, both of us draped in sun—the passing shadows of pigeons casting charcoal doubles as they whirled from street corner to sky—my sister reading louise glück and anne carson and pulling colored pencils from the red embroidered case I had as a teenager, while I wrote in my journal—perhaps a slice of cake frosted pink at the london plane to share later, before we took the light rail or bus home—my genmaicha tea cooling in a pale blue cup, her face moving in and out of the light— eight years ago, after one such afternoon, we got caught in the rain waiting for the 40 at 3rd avenue and james. in the photos and videos I took on my phone, she is laughing, her dark hair wet against her shoulders. rain rolled down her face and mine. we were heading home together most of the way—we lived in the same city and would never be alone—we loved all the same poems. I knew I wanted to remember that happiness forever, and I would, and I do. ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏ say hello ⋰⋰⋰ yourworldoftext.com/~rhizomehaunt/