“Now look what you did,” I said with a cliched kind of obvious indignity. 

A man walking in the dark, out of the light of the lampposts, for instance, seemed to be approaching us. I imagined he was going to ask us for a light, or the time, or directions, something bland and traditional. He might also have wished us physical harm, or at least wished to make our valuables his own.

When snow reaches a certain height it begins to feel as though it will soon absorb you, take you and make you a part of its frozen essence.

I hadn’t attempted to drive away. I remained there. I was prepared to take my punishment. I thought that should count for something. 

I don’t respond and two hours later he sends a photo of the dog.

Alice sighs in the way only British people can sigh. Maybe it’s all the rain they have inhaled.

We went back and forth, hyping each other up, talking about the best summer of our lives and how we would never be this young again and if we pet an alpaca everyone would be jealous.

I am searching for the type of room that would change my life if I lived there, you know the one.

“Bandeau,” I type into the Tumblr search bar. The results load like a quilt of skin.