⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝒎𝙖𝙮𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝖆͟𝖙͟𝖊͟𝖗͟𝖇͟𝖚͟𝖗͟𝖞 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝓇𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑒𝑑𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑠 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀. . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝓉𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝒻𝑖𝑡𝑧𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑑 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀. . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝖘͟𝖎͟𝖓.

ᅠ ᅠ ᅠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀if the apocalypse hits, you will ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀want me around. i can rig a ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ RADIO out of a broken toaster ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀and a prayer and keep signals ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀going while everything else dies. ᅠ ᅠ ᅠ

⠀ ⠀⠀the map on my thigh does not lead ⠀ ⠀⠀to anywhere real. just where i used ⠀ ⠀⠀to want to go.

ᅠ ᅠ ᅠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀i don’t know if i am surviving or ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀too stubborn to DIE —— but ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ either way, i am still here. and ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀i’ve got teeth that bite. i don’t ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀forget who made me bare ‘em. ᅠ ᅠ ᅠ

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ A boy’s best friend is his mother. ⠀⠀⠀ She understands things no—one ⠀⠀⠀ else does. She watches, always . . . ⠀⠀⠀ from the window, from the dark, ⠀⠀⠀ from 𝒮𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 inside me. ⠀ ⠀

The espresso hissed like it had secrets to spill. Lio didn’t look up as she slid the drink across the counter. “Here. Double shot, no sugar. Just like your lies.” A smirk tugged at her mouth, sharp and tired. “You stalking me, or is this a coincidence?”

The jukebox had stopped an hour ago. Lio leaned against the bar, fingers drumming a slow rhythm on the counter. One glass left to clean. Her eyes tracked the last patron like a storm brewing — not hostile, not friendly. Just waiting.

Rain crawled down the window like it was trying to get in. Lio lit a cigarette with a match, letting the flame catch for a second too long. She sat on the windowsill, barefoot, bruised, wrapped in an old hoodie. A record played low in the background — something rough and aching.

Blood on her knuckles. She stood at the sink, under flickering fluorescent light, rinsing the red from her skin like it was just another spill. A bottle of bourbon waited beside the till. She didn’t touch it. Yet.