[ "Songs about women killing men" is basically a valid musical genre unto itself, as far as Julie's concerned. She can build him a whole playlist to listen to on repeat while he practices emojis.
She snickers and barely restrains from calling him a baby, because she is a child in an adult's body, but the joint disappears after she breathes out a final cloud of smoke. With a wave of her arm, the sky goes from dusk to midnight, stars twinkling against the indigo field that ends at the limits of the vineyard. A second thought turns their seats instead to a large blanket spread over the grass. It's blue gingham and quite worn, because that's the blanket that Julie remembers best, from Independence Day and Memorial Day celebrations, the blanket that she would fall asleep under in the back of her father's truck after the show was over. The wine sits in a corner, a fresh bottle, and she feels a pang in her heart looking over the scene. This exact setup, it's not something she ever gets again, not for real, and it had once seemed so reliable. Something that would be there for her every summer.
She slips her shoes off at the edge of the blanket, then lies down to look up at the sky, a halo of pink spread around her head. ] Get comfortable. It's the only real way to watch.
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She snickers and barely restrains from calling him a baby, because she is a child in an adult's body, but the joint disappears after she breathes out a final cloud of smoke. With a wave of her arm, the sky goes from dusk to midnight, stars twinkling against the indigo field that ends at the limits of the vineyard. A second thought turns their seats instead to a large blanket spread over the grass. It's blue gingham and quite worn, because that's the blanket that Julie remembers best, from Independence Day and Memorial Day celebrations, the blanket that she would fall asleep under in the back of her father's truck after the show was over. The wine sits in a corner, a fresh bottle, and she feels a pang in her heart looking over the scene. This exact setup, it's not something she ever gets again, not for real, and it had once seemed so reliable. Something that would be there for her every summer.
She slips her shoes off at the edge of the blanket, then lies down to look up at the sky, a halo of pink spread around her head. ] Get comfortable. It's the only real way to watch.