Ah, c’mon.

“Ah, I did not see an established perimeter.” She lifts her head to look around, as if there’d be little flags noting the ‘perimeter’. Smiling to herself slightly. She looks back at the woman as she speaks next. “I work for big paper, and my name is not important.” Joking.

She looks from his face to the flashed tags, and then back towards his eyes. She had a set like that once, but they were more for her keeper’s identification than her own. “Logan. That’s a fine name.”

You can call me El. What do I call you?

Hm.

We are kindred spirits, I think. I feel similar. Aimless is the word I attribute to it. Listless, maybe. Wandering purposeless in search of…whatever comes. Don’t know shit about fuck…that’s funny.

What do you mean?

Mm, no. I’m quiet…nomadic. Are you from here?

I would not be surprised, but I’ll look on the bright side.

You’re a kind soul to be their punching bag, then. Hopefully the altercation brought them some solace.

I know the feeling. Who managed to shred you?

You seem very…unshredded, in my opinion.

To shreds, you say?

Whatever from?

Observing. Meticulously, almost surgically, peeling an orange.

Shudder.

Unwarranted.

She seems quite satisfied with this quiet defeat, or perhaps surrender. This is why she keeps all her secrets in her head. Far safer than a…’journal’. “I do hope you have a successful…mission.”

Yes, you are very…outspoken. Perhaps it is just me, but if the contents of such an entry were so confidential I would not write them largely and in the public eye.

I do not work for the post-it company, so I care not whether you purchase them or not. You write big.

I don’t think I made a critique, just a query. You’re oddly defensive. That’s a critique.

I put my lists on a post-it.

Is it really journaling when it’s a to-do list?

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Sitting crisscross on the rooftop. Peeling an orange.

“Well, I do have to wash them.” She says, brushing two gloved hands together to dust away their spit. “I suppose that’s an accurate assessment, yes.” She missed them, yeah, yeah.

Quite the blessing. She raises an eyebrow, lifting her hand just enough to give them space to talk. “What?”

Slowly sliding a gloved hand over to cover their mouth.

Annoyed side eye.

Quiet reflection.