There are rotting bunches of kale in our fridges; our floors are still sticky with the residue of melted snow trekked in by our Doc Martens three weeks ago. Yesterday, my mortality flashed before me like an ambient specter when I sprained my ankle while running across Blackstone Boulevard, but really it’s fine. The ambient specter, I swear, had the same surgically enhanced smile as John Travolta.
Are you even reading this? Yes, thank you. The days are finally getting longer and our layers lighter, but to be honest, the prospect of Providence humidity makes me anxious. Cashmere does not have good moisture-wicking properties. We’re dreaming of experiencing powdery sand beaches, views from the top floor of a skyscraper that is not the SciLi. Holding out for a world outside our 1AM Instagram explore page. Break is almost here! How many times a day is it acceptable to go to Shiru? Can the Indy crowdsource that?