“My hair drips onto the armrest in rhythmic plops. In my peripheral vision, I see Raphael’s irritated gaze fall to the small puddle I’ve created.“These seats are Nappa leather.”“And my sweater is cotton.”“What?”I hitch a shoulder. Glare at the glow of fragmented headlights through the windshield. “Thought we were naming fabrics no one gives a shit about.”😭
— Aug 30, 2024 01:16PM
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