Fish-Gazers

I believe there are two kinds of people in the world.

There are the kinds of people that enjoy finding excitement in everyday life, that delight in adventure in the out-of-doors, that scale mountains and hang-glide off of them, that prank-call old high school teachers and use the lamest jokes unselfconsciously, that party hardy knowing that tomorrow could be their last day alive on this earth, and that walk confidently and love freely, never letting doubt get in the way of something they want.

And then there are people who like to stare at fish.

And perhaps tap gently on the bowl. Or make faces at them.

I really wanted a cat. I’m only allowed to have a fish in the dorms. His name is Aristotle and he is sometimes unsatisfying. Maybe I put too much pressure on him to be a genius. After all, he did eat his brother.

Out of some sick form of silent protest against the limits that university housing presses upon us hapless college students, I have a colorful candle sitting next to my colorful fish bowl. It adds to the calming ambiance of having a fish bowl. The wick in the candle has not been removed. It’s my triumph against the administration. It’s also a fire hazard. But that’s not what my story is about.

No, this brief story is about fish-gazers and what happens when they finally go stir-crazy.

Sometimes, I just get the urge to bang my broom on the ceiling in the way of senile hermits. There are so many noises in this place it drives me crazy. If I’m not hearing the squeaky box-spring in the room above getting a little afternoon delight workout, it’s the football-crazy guys next door watching an apparently orgasmic game, or the girls across the hall yelling down into the courtyard to have a chat at dawn before they leave for whatever crazy sport requires exercise at six in the morning.

Yeah, I’m jealous. I’m jealous of over-sexed awkward couples and companionship and involvement, none of which I’ve proved very adept at accomplishing.

Oh, but fish are delightful. All beautiful and sparkly. I just wish Aristotle would do something unpredictable. Fish aren’t really known for their flights of fancy. He hasn’t done much since that day of carnage back in March when I thought it would be a good idea to get my healthy goldfish a healthy goldfish friend.

Maybe he could leap out of his bowl. That would be impressive. It would be sad if he died, though.

It’s always the days that I find myself staring at Aristotle and listening to rap that I realize I need to go somewhere and shake out the old appendages. Rap days are days when no other music is quite right. Surprisingly they’re the days when I feel the least badass.

One particular example of these sorts of days was a Wednesday. On this Wednesday, around 6 o’clock, I pulled my orange-and-white striped socks up to my knees in a businesslike manner, threw on spandex shorts and the baggiest shirt I own, and stuffed my bag full of every conceivable necessity and unnecessity I could think of. Slipping on some sunglasses and leaving my messy brown hair in a bun, I tricked Aristotle into leaping up at my finger, giggled, and turned off all the lights.

My trip down the hallway was accompanied by a series of conversational tidbits floating from behind closed and open doors alike.

“Why yes. Yes I do enjoy a good roast.”

“I haven’t brushed my teeth in three days and you’re asking me if that stupid shirt goes with those stupid pants? ….No! They don’t go together! Leave me alone!”

“Horses are actually better than cheetahs in the long run because they can run—“

“Paying &$#million dollars a month and we don’t even get a freaking air conditioner—DON’T TOUCH THE FAN, you—“

“Why are you always studying?”

“Yah, they both went to the same party and it ended up that Jason actually liked Sara when everyone had been pretty sure that—“

“God DAMN diff eq,” someone shouted, and then the blearing light of the outer world greeted me as I shoved open the door. I clutched my pack to my side and prepared to ignore the eyes of everyone in existence.

“Cori, do you ever get any work done? Every time I see you you’re either lying down on your bed staring at the ceiling or wandering around outside like a vagabond.”

“Big word,” I deadpanned, smirking at the tall boy with the curly blond ‘fro. Ozzy grinned up at me from where he was sitting down in the grass, squinting his gray eyes because the sun was directly behind me. A group of guys to the left of me started to howl and make pigeon noises to each other, so he held up his hand, I helped him up with much struggle, and we headed off in a random direction away from the noise.

“The ceiling is so unexciting,” I said, picking up where he’d left off. “Trust me, when I look at the ceiling, I see something else entirely.”

“Well, yes, insanity does allow you that little pleasure. How kind of the debilitating mental disease. Say, you wanna get a burger?”

“I’m actually heading to the pet store to get some more fake landscapes because Aristotle needs to be happy. He’s the only living thing I’m responsible for. If he dies out of spite because he didn’t get a big enough castle, I would be crushed.” I stopped Ozzy long enough to grab both of his arms and say in a much more serious tone, “Crushed.”

He batted my hands away with a grin. “I get it, I get it.” He shook his head. “Fish is so fuckin’ needy.”

I paused for a second. Then “Do you not have anything else to do either?”

Ozzy smiled widely. “Not really. Roommate’s in, like always.” That meant that he couldn’t smoke his bong, which he was very proud of. He came by the habit honestly; both of his parents were mythology-obsessed hippies. They didn’t smoke anymore, he said, but they accepted that he probably would and they’d never confronted him. And he was still getting almost perfect grades, of which I was extremely bitter. Not really.

Right now, he was clear-eyed, and that didn’t happen frequently, so I hooked my arm through his and we simply strolled along. My getup got plenty of sweeping up-and-down stares and a few smiles, so I smiled back and kept my grin, feeling light in the pleasant Wednesday weather.

“You’re eyes are looking spectacularly natural today,” he said out of the blue, nudging me in the side with his elbow and throwing off the balance of our duo. I rolled the aforementioned features of my freckled, expressive face.

“I told you, I don’t normally wear make-up. I was going to a luncheon with my mom. She sets out to make me look like a girl and ends up with a raccoon-daughter. But it makes her happy.”

“Your parents are insane. I just don’t understand.”

“Not everyone can have your parents.”

He smiled widely. It was refreshing to see a guy who didn’t mind expressing how much he loved his Mum and Dad.

“Dude, I’m totally taking a mythology class next semester. Something relaxing. This one god, the god of wine and nature and all that stuff, he came out of his dad’s thigh. His thigh. Sans-uterus. Crazy, man. And I know all about that shit. Bedtime stories since I was five. I was confused when I first took family education. I think it’d be much more interesting to sprout out of my dad’s toe or something. It’s time for another step in evolution.”

“I don’t think evolution will ever, ever jump to toe-births.” Ozzy always spouts out some random rambling story almost in one breath that never ends up where you think it’s heading.

“I can dream, man. Don’t crush my dreams.” His curls were bouncing with his long strides, but I didn’t have to struggle very hard to keep up with my 6’5” friend. I don’t mind walking like a crazy power-walker, even if I’m only 5’7” and my legs are half the length of Ozzy’s.

The woman behind the counter at the pet-shop put us both under intense scrutiny as we wandered amongst the fish-tanks. I don’t know how you can be suspicious of someone in knee-high striped socks or be suspicious of someone who’s Ozzy, but adults are odd creatures, and not much given to logic.

There were lots of terrific castles that I would have been proud to bring home and present to my lovely fish, but a lot of them wouldn’t have fit in my wee fish bowl, so I settled on a mid-sized bright purple one that Ozzy said hurt his eyes. It was still large enough that I couldn’t fit it into my bag.

“Can you carry it?” I asked, making my eyes as big as possible to eek out every bit of cuteness I could muster.

“You look deranged.” And then he swept me up into his arms and strolled down the crowded street full of shops that were frequented by students. We got a few whistles. I tugged my socks even higher, and then he told me not to squirm around so much. “Here’s what I propose,” he said, suddenly stopping unhooking his arm from under my knees and swinging me around so that with a jolt my feet were suddenly on the ground. “We’re going to sit under a tree. And make fun of people walking by. And spread the love.”

“But…but, my fish,” I protested.

“Totty has survived without a castle this long. He’ll live.”

“If he dies, you’ll be sorry.”

“Because you’re going to make me be sorry or I’m going to be stricken with remorse at the pitiful image of a poor philosophical belly-floater and be tortured by what could have been?” Ozzy asked with a grin. He sat and squinted up at me. I leapt on top of him.

We wheezed about in a tangle of limbs, with Ozzy recovering first and shoving me away. “Ooh, look at that trollop,” he cried, grasping my face in both hands and turning it towards the girl in question. She was vaguely nun-like, with an unflattering, cornflower-blue shirt that aged her twenty years and aged her breasts at least twice that. We watched her trundle along.

“I just…I want to help people like that,” Ozzy said with a shuddering sigh. I rolled my eyes.

“Always the philanthropist.”

“You’re just never going to be as delightful as I am, and it tears you up inside.”

I let out a little huff and leaned back against him. “Are we really just going to sit out here…forever?”

I felt his laugh before I heard it.

“No. Just wait till 8 o’clock. I have something really fun for us to do.”

“That’s not ever as comforting as you think. Ooh, Ozzy has a plan. Let’s hide in the garbage heap until he passes.”

“You’re just dirty. That is not a widely held opinion of Ozzy. Nosiree.” He took my castle from me and set it up on the ground. “You have such a lowly fish. He doesn’t even get a fortress, just a tower.”

I pouted.

We didn’t end up sitting there until 8. We wandered the campus and tried every door we came across to see if it was locked. The dining hall was crowded, but we managed to find a table. And then 8 o’clock rolled around and I found myself in front of Beidleman Library. It’s quite an impressive building, but it had been under construction since our freshman year and only part of it was open to students.

“Wow. I’m aglow with excitement,” I said in a very unexcited tone.

“When have I ever led you astray? I know fun. This will be fun. Just don’t act like too much of a loser, you’ll embarrass me.”

“We’re at a library. What kind of loser are we talking about?”

“The cynical kind. Hup, in we go.” He caught me by the arm and dragged me in.

I was confused when we veered away from the main section to go into the old stacks. That was the part that had been closed off for construction. The windows of the doors into the section were covered by dirty plastic. When we opened the doors and slipped in after a furtive glance-around by Ozzy, who is not nearly as sneaky as he thinks he is, I saw that all the lights were off and there was only an eerie glow given off by the emergency lighting.

“You didn’t have to pretend to be my friend for two years to carry out the perfect murder,” I said flatly. I crossed my arms, but Ozzy only rolled his eyes at me and grabbed my elbow to lead me further.

It was quiet except for the natural rumbling of the building. I gripped my castle like a club. And whipped it back to hurl it with deadly force when someone stepped out from behind one of the bookshelves.

“Ozzy, dude! You came! And…you brought a friend.”

The stranger was a guy, not as tall as Ozzy but tall enough, with dark hair and dark eyes. He gave me an uncertain up-and-down glance like the ones I’d been getting all afternoon.

“Nice socks,” he said with a smirk. Ozzy threw an arm around my shoulders.

“This is Cori. Cori, this is Harris.”

I shifted my castle out of ready position and took the proffered hand. “Hi, Harris,” I said gravely. He smiled widely.

“This is the first time Ozzy’s actually taken my advice and gotten someone else to come.”

“It was under false pretenses. The pretense of keeping me completely ignorant for his own sick, twisted, nefarious purposes. I have no idea why I’m here.”

“Ooh, virgin blood.” That voice came from out of the darkness, and I must say it was thoroughly creepy. Harris rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let the girl through.

“This is my sister, Ashley. And she’s a vampire. Obviously.” Ashley punched her brother in the arm. He whimpered in a most pathetic manner.

“So why am I here,” I finally demanded.

“Hide and seek!” Ozzy cried.

In response, more than a few voice rose of from out of the stacks around us. “Hiiide and seeeek!”

Startled, I whipped around and saw that there were quite a few people in this supposedly deserted section of the library. “Are these the library hobos?” I stage-whispered. “I’ve heard about them, but…”

“They don’t live here, Cori,” Ozzy said. “Obvi.”

“Obvi,” Harris and Ashley said in unison, with solemn nods. I gave all three of them strange looks.

“Is this a cult?” I asked suspiciously.

“They just like freaking out virgin blood” a deep voice from behind me assured. I turned around rather slowly to face the owner of that familiar voice.

“Gallagher,” I enunciated, narrowing my eyes excessively. The corner of his mouth quirked.

“Coriander,” he said pleasantly.

Maybe it was competition born of having such ridiculous names—a competition I won by dint of having one extra syllable—but I’d felt an inherent aversion to the guy living above me in the dorms. He always walked by my room on his way out. My door was always open, and he always made eye contact. Which made him a suspicious dude in my book.

But why? He was just so calm and unmovable. Like a big, boring rock. And unlike a big, exciting rock. He was at least six feet tall, probably more, and built like a wall. His hair was brown and curly, and always messy and he had eyes to match—I mean they were brown, not curly and messy. That would be weird. He was fairly attractive, when I considered him objectively.

He just struck me as completely colorless. And that automatically meant that he was a secretive nutjob. I was amazed to see him in the same group of people as Ozzy—bouncy, happy Ozzy.

“I see introductions are not in order here,” Ozzy said in the silence that rang after our gauntlet-throwing. Gallagher continued to hold my gaze steadily until I had to look away.

“Okay kids!” Harris cried. “Gather round, gather round.”

I was instantly engulfed in a huddle of people streaming in from all directions. In all honesty there were probably less than twenty, but it felt like a herd of wildebeest, so forgive my exaggeration.

“I figure we all know the rules of hide and seek. But for Beidleman Hide & Seek™, we like to throw in a few…surprises,” his sister said, a wicked grin growing. “First of all, this hide and seek game is a team sport. We divide into guys and girls; thanks to Ozzy, we’re even again.

“For the newbies, I find myself honor-bound to say that this game is a little weird, and a little juvenile, but we like it a lot.”

Chuckles abounded. I rolled my eyes, waiting for the punch line. “When a member of one team finds a member of another team...the seeker has the choice of tagging that person out, or…giving the hider a second chance. And how does the seeker show they’re giving the hider a second chance?” Ashley beamed widely. “A wee little peck on the lips.”

By the way everyone else started snickering, I guessed—rightly, as I would find—that a peck on the lips was relative to each seeker. As long as it was consensual, there was no limit to second-chance shenanigans.

I instantly scoffed and started backing up to make my way through the crowd without being too obvious. Oz latched onto my wrist though—he didn’t even have to glance around to catch me. I groaned and tugged on his grip but he just gave me a look.

Now that the full details of the game were given, I was even more weirded out by the fact that Gallagher was here. Did he come here to trade kisses for resurrection? Did he get off on that power? Am I actually the crazy one for seeing Gallagher as a mentally unbalanced sorcerous figure of doom? Maybe. But I’m a stir-crazy hermit with a philosopher fish as my constant companion. I figure the crazy part as a given.

“Harris and I will be the leaders of our teams, which only matters because that means we get to do this.” The siblings faced each other and each held up one hand, with intense expressions signifying this was an event of monumental significance. Slowly, they reached out…

This game of rock paper scissors came out with the girls on top. Which meant the girls were seeking. Which meant the girls would be doling out the kisses.

I scrunched my nose. Of course I was just going to tag all the guys I found. No second chances here. I might be okay with being kissed, but I would certainly not instigate.

“Alright, gather in a circle, laaddiees, and close your eyes,” Harris said with a cackle before scampering off, with the other boys soon following and hooting as they went. How could the librarians not hear this? Weren’t they trained to develop super-human student-and-ninja-whisper-decibel hearing? I closed my eyes along with the other girls as the guys shoved past us. Oh, so this was a game that was played dirty. I should’ve figured that out from the promotion of promiscuity.

I assumed Ozzy was the one who grabbed my fingers as he went by. He held them for a moment, chuckled, and then was gone. I smiled and shook my head.

“Alright girls. This game is really just a way to give the girls the power of toying with guys,” Ashley giggled. “So…make sure you don’t kiss anyone you don’t want to. Don’t let them pressure you. You are to taunt! Got it?”

With one loud “Huzzah!” and a haphazardly in-unison countdown from 10, the game was on.

Truth be told, I wasn’t sure I wanted to find anyone. Eight girls to find eight boys—I could easily finish up this game without having to seek. But…Oz had told me not to be a loser, and as much as I like to pretend that I’m not a party-pooper…I kind of am. So maybe I would give him this one, and just participate.

I wandered around aimlessly. I heard one or two shrieks and loud giggles, but beyond that only the pitter patter of hunter and hunted echoed around the closed-off area of the library.

There was something exciting about sneaking around in the dark. My heart was pounding fast even though I wasn’t scared, and my stomach was full of butterflies. If I ran across a cute guy, would I kiss him? I wasn’t so sure I would just pass on that part of the game now that I wandering around in the dark. But I was a strange person, and I couldn’t imagine that many of them would want to kiss me. I just imagine them screwing their eyes shut and puckering their lips like they’ve just eaten a Warhead. I certainly don’t want to kiss that expression.

I was so occupied with my thoughts that I walked in on one hider and one seeker in flagrante delicto, right up against the books, with some Charles Dickens strewn about their feet like victims of a paper mache explosion.

“Augh!” I cried inconspicuously. They both blinked up at me momentarily and then dove back in. “Augh!” I cried again. I stumbled around the corner in shock. Had “peck” just been a pun?

Well now I felt stupid.

“Oh God,” I said, scrubbing at my eyes.

I moved in a completely different direction from where they’d been, and made it to the end of one room before saying “Oh God” out loud again and doing a little jig as I shivered in disgust. I tried to brush the love particles off of me, but felt like I hadn’t completely succeeded.

Well, if that’s what I could look forward to running into all over this library, no thank you.

Unfortunately for me, as soon as I decided that it should be so—that I would not throw myself heart and soul into this game if I was going to have to be part of a bad porn movie—I turned a corner and found Gallagher splayed out on the floor with his back resting against the shelf. Beside him was an open astronomy book, but he had his eyes closed and his head back, so I thought he was asleep. I spoke anyway, because I’m silly.

“Thought you’d get some studying in? Nerd.”

He opened one eye, saw it was me, and then opened both of them to stare up at me with a dark gaze. “No one ever checks the astronomy section.”

“You don’t want to be found?” I asked disbelievingly. Surely he’d want all the kisses he could get. He didn’t strike me as a ladies man. At all.

The corner of his mouth curved upward.

“I come because Harris thinks he’s got the greatest idea ever with this game and he’s my best friend. I don’t get kissed—I win honestly. Every time. Except this time, I guess.” He squinted. “Gonna give me a kiss?”

I rolled my eyes. “Hardly. I was dragged along to this thing, and if I were to kiss anyone—“ I broke off, realizing how rude that thought would be to complete. Gallagher obviously knew what I had been about to say, and he just as obviously didn’t give a rat’s ass. I cleared my throat, and before I knew it I was sitting down across from him. He only watched me.

The thing about Gallagher is that he’s probably the nicest guy you’ll never know. Even in my limited experience, I’ve seen that he doesn’t do sarcasm, or veiled insults, or even joking around in a mean fashion that leaves you uncertain whether the person really means what they say.

This also meant he tended not to laugh at jokes that were made at his expense; I liked him better now than I had when I first met him. That had been the first weekend at school, during the party our dorm threw to get us all together and form life-long friendships—in actuality, I never spoke to most of these people ever again, although I did meet Ozzy. A girl had made a lame joke about Gallagher’s complete harmlessness. Gallagher’s friends had laughed heartily, while Gallagher had only maintained a blank expression.

I had thought him a poor sport, but I guess it’s dumb to laugh at jokes that aren’t funny.

“So…how’s life on the upper floors?” Lamest. Conversation-starter. Ever.

His steady gaze didn’t change at all, but he answered. “Good. Hotter, elevated.”

“Do you have fans?”

“Harris did. It broke.”

“So you have no cold air?” I asked incredulously. He shrugged and smiled.

“I’m from Florida, Cori. Virginia’s no biggie.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say, but in actuality Virginia weather is insane and has nothing to do with the latitude.”

“Still, 85 degrees is like spring weather for me,” he said. “Not that the 95 degree days here are really pleasant.”

“Ah ha! See? Our weather is just as miserable as Florida’s. Don’t try to take that away from us!”

Gallagher held up both hands in a calming gesture. “I will never again say that Virginia is not as miserable as Florida. It clearly drives some people to insanity.”

“Heeey,” I protested, shoving a book across the floor at him so it hit his foot. “Wait, did you just make a joke? At my expense??”

His face went back to its characteristic blankness. “Sorry.”

“No no no,” I said, crawling over to him. “You just made a joke…at my expense! I didn’t know you had it in you.”

He was studying me uncertainly. “So you see this as a good thing.”

“Well yeah. I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” I was feeling restless and was a lot more warmed up to him than I was before. “I thought you didn’t have a sense of humor.”

That was the kinder of the revelations. I didn’t want to say that I no longer thought he was some creepy stalker who peeped in on me every morning. Conversing with him it was hard to see him as a bug-eyed freak.

“I don’t, Cori,” he said in complete seriousness. I regarded him stolidly for a good minute before a smile finally spread across his face. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I thought you were insane the first time I met you.”

I nodded. “Naturally.”

“I guess that would be a typical impression.” He looked pointedly at my outfit.

“You don’t like my socks?” I demanded in outrage. His brow creased and he leaned forward as I moved away again.

“Didn’t say I didn’t like them.”

I pouted. He gave me an odd look.

“So…have I been found? Am I out?”

I waved my hand vaguely. “Whatever you decide. I can’t make the effort to care.”

“Well…you did find me. Usually the question now is whether or not you’re going to give me a second chance.”

Maybe I was reading too deeply into that, but it sounded like he knew exactly what I’d thought of him before tonight. It also sounded pretty flirtatious, and it sounded like Gallagher liked me. All three of these readings threw me off guard. So I did the only thing I could. I just gaped at him in dumb silence.

“Although, if you can’t make the effort, I can decide for you.”

“I guess I can give you a peck, minus whatever euphemism that very misleading term may or may not have that has led me to stumble on a very awkward situation somewhere in the literature section.”

“We’re in the science section now. Peck means whatever you want it to mean.”

“That doesn’t make much sense.” But I got up on my knees and wobbled over to him. “Okay, close your eyes, because believe it or not this is very embarrassing.”

“I don’t believe it,” he said, but he closed his eyes, leaving a light grin gracing his lips. Looking down I saw that his hands were gripped together in his lap.

I lightly kissed him. It was a real kiss, despite its brevity, because I let myself make it last as long as it took for me to sink into his mouth. So not just a surface kiss, which is what peck implies to me. And a peck wouldn’t have me feeling so dizzy or dry-mouthed, or the butterflies in my stomach working overtime.

Even after I’d pulled away a few inches, he didn’t move. Just when his eyes started to flicker open, I covered his rigid hands with mine and loosened them up enough to curl my fingers through his. Before his eyes were even open, he used my grip on his hands to tug me down again, and then his mouth took mine.

Wish I’d checked on the sexual chemistry thing before I’d declared him a lost cause (not in so many words, just in me completely ignoring him when possible because he seemed…off).

His hands were in my hair, tugging at all the right spots to send little shocks of pleasure down to my toes. Gallagher has really big hands. He started to pull away when I grabbed the one he slid to my waist—I think it’s the universal sign for “no touchy”—but I just wanted to trace all of his fingers with mine. They soon tangled together.

He set me back with a serious look in his eye, even as his other hand traced up along my throat.

“That…was unexpected.”

“Speak for yourself,” he murmured. I narrowed my eyes.

“You knew that was going to happen? Even though you think I’m insane and I thought you were boring?”

“Both past tense. You thought I was boring?”

“Well, what? You never even give a cursory giggle at your friends’ jokes, you stare blankly at me whenever we see each other, and you are spending your time in an out-of-service library reading astronomy books. Astronomy books! Come on, Gally.”

“Real men don’t giggle. And my friends—“

“Aren’t funny?” I hazarded.

“And they don’t call me Gally.” His brown eyes drew all of my focus away so that I hardly knew what to say to him.

“Well, is there even a good way to make your name a nickname?” I settled down beside him and, after a moment’s hesitation, leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder.

“My friends call me Block.”

I remembered hearing that nickname before and thinking it particularly apt. “Do you like that?”

Gallagher was silent for a moment. He shifted and slowly brought one arm around me. I nuzzled further into his side. “I don’t mind it.”

“I’ve always thought you were built like a wall.”

“Then call me Wally,” he said with a laugh. I ran a hesitant hand down his chest, then across to test the feel of his wideness. He felt so solid.

“Why do you walk by my room and look in every morning?” I asked, not trying to sound accusatory but now genuinely curious.

“I figured the day would eventually come when you either came out to me or shut the door. Until then, there was no reason to change my routine because I hadn’t got what I wanted yet and you hadn’t shown that there was no chance yet.”

“Why would I come out to you when I didn’t even know you?” I demanded with a sniff. He rested his cheek on the top of my head, making me grin involuntarily.

“Because you’re like any colorful fish in a bowl, and you would have eventually made your suicidal bid for freedom by leaping out. I just wanted to be there when it happened.”

A/N: It’s somewhat of a rambling, not-super-well-plotted story, but it’s been sitting on my computer for awhile, and I liked Cori, so I figured I’d put it up!