Good coat, dead eyes, phone already out. I do it too. The city rewards looking sorted. It never even asks if you even slept tonight.
Tag: money
Nobody believes us, least of all ourselves. Quick ones turn into last trains and a messy little story I will edit at work Monday morning.
Numbers I can do. People I romanticise. That is why the spreadsheet looks adult and my Friday looks like a dare I already accepted tonight.
I put my card down because I could. His whole face changed. Some men only like cocky until the bill proves you need no rescuing.
Nice people go quiet. The group chat dries right up. Then the money leaves and we are mates again. Poverty makes all our manners seasonal.
I tell myself the promotion ends the tight feeling for good. It will help. It will not make me suddenly wise on a Friday night.
New lip, decent coat, nails done before the shift. Nobody has to know the account. Looking costly is the cheapest kind of rich available really.
Nobody believes us, least of all ourselves. Quick ones turn into last trains and a messy little story I will edit at work Monday morning.
Warehouse face off, night face on, sometimes both in one single day. This city lets you be two people if your makeup bag keeps up.
Not sex this time. An actual argument. I put music on and hated myself for listening. Thin walls make you an unpaid bloody little witness.