Ripe Mulberry
Aug 31, 2018 · 3 min read

I rest on a futon with a posture that is far too scrunched up for one to ever look comfortable from a plain person’s perspective, meanwhile the tears of God pitter and patter their way down from the clouds to land against my paned window sill. “Rainy days on a summer day drain my thoughts away.”
It is the middle of June, and I haven’t been outside for nearly a week and a half, I believe. The only human being that I have been in…

