Emotionally spent chick, here.
Why?
Lost gardens, lost dogs, lost trips… all buzzing around a mind that feels more like an open wound than an organ.
Yep, flies on fresh roadkill.
That’s my brain today.
How utterly delightful, right?
Just ignore me, please.
There’s no room on the wound for Lost Follower Flies today.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
