My sorry attempts to find any excuse to text Indy are getting more obvious. Sending her pictures of my lonely breakfasts without her, asking her the name of certain flowers I stumble upon, or just texting her to complain about how she’s not very good at cleaning up after herself, though I’ve grown used to my apartment being a bit more frenzied these days. Seems like I find a reason to message her at least once a day, and we’ve already talked about this bridal shower all week, but fuck it, I want to talk to her.
So down bad
