Put on some Chopin Nocturne

This one hurts.

God, I’m tired. I spent the entire day run­ning errands. I took my kit­ten to the vet, which was a fair­ly painful expe­ri­ence. A bitchy, though red-head­ed, sec­re­tary “served” me. The appoint­ments were an hour behind sched­ule. I decid­ed to hold off on a con­fir­ma­tion of the name until I felt com­fort­able with it, which I cur­rent­ly do not. I’m fuck­ing tired.

There’s some­thing about a girl with long, slen­der, del­i­cate fin­gers. They seem to speak of an intel­li­gence not expressed in any oth­er way. They way they move, the way they touch, the way they look. Sometimes dex­ter­i­ty is so sim­ply an attrac­tive fea­ture that one miss­es it, while being drawn to oth­er, more opu­lent fea­tures.

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