pat my back but kick my dog- you're so good.

You hate working night shifts. Usually you don’t have to, because you have the excuses of school and sports and music and tests and cries of child labour, but it’s six days before Christmas and the supermarket is crawling with people. Then he comes along.

watch the sixteenth sunset over plastic square dominions.

Her friends tease her. She takes the train. She buys ice cream. She conveniently forgets to wear pants with her long tee shirts. She goes on dates. And at the year twelve formal, she finds herself spiking the punch.

and the things that come between.