"The End" by Kleerup came on my ipod. Understanding this as a sign, I stand up, jerk both earbuds out of my ears and realize the panicky-ending feeling is not as big of deal as it felt, minutes ago lying in the grass. The park was as hot and still as it was before pre-"significant" song.
Going with my gut, I left--sacrificing the tan on my stomach and quads in order to tell you about about what's more important: who I slept with last night. So my tan is uneven, at the cost of the visual displeasure of he who sees me unrobed. Let's be honest: he, whoever he is, doesn't care.
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