smelled fish while staring at georgia’s back at putney
heard the first bit of symphony no. 94 by haydn while trying to sleep
smelled fish walking home from my wretched history final
now: smelled eggs while standing in a shallow bit of the ocean with elena
in other news, i finally yawned the way esmé does [mouth closed, nostrils fluttering like wings]. i’ve wanted to ever since i read that short story in eighth grade, but always seemed to forget.
