.

too hot to think. maybe that's for the best.

but not too hot to not be lonely.

i am alone, but i'm not lonely, says deniro.

he was lying. he tried to prove to himself that he wasn't, but pacino still held his hand.

cruel fate, cruel weather, cruel couch, cruel vegemite, to have set me up like this. so it goes. someday the heat and the separation and the worry thoughts of "but i don't know her well enough!" and the musty smell will all be a silly memory.

because i do. i'm just a little lonely and hot.