I met this girl at Wreck Room. I bought her a drink and she didn’t drink it because she was on Molly and was already knodding and turning away and comin back smiling. Then this Ethiopian guy came over, named One-D. I kept talking to whatsername and then I had to go to the bathroom and when I came back he was sitting next to her.
Her friend Sophie was nice and is the daughter of some writer for Time. She had a thin form and a brown skin and a nose with a thimble at the end and a pronounced jawline and small, sleepy brown eyes. She invited me back to her friend’s house. It’s an apartment right around the street from mine and is furnished well with mahogany and white Macbooks and well-framed artwork.
It’s 2:40 but I don’t want to go to sleep. I want to just keep drinking Tecate, which the girls bought, they’re so sweet, and feel the alcohol coursing through my veins. It feels so good. And add some writing on top of it and I feel so so good, listening to Sunrise and looking at my leather bracelets.
Now One-D is coming over and there’s a flurry of excitement.
Daniel the Writer 