not here||him

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||him||

       There are many benefits of being best friends with morgan farmer. watching her draw, her insightfulness, her morbid wit, her intelligence, her sarcasm, her views on politics (her rants are laced with profanity and an impressive amount of harry potter references. a must-see) and her music taste. 

          these all create a crazed artist who as much as I love comes with a few... quirks. most poigant is her mild obsession with derek hastings, a uninspired pothead whose art "speaks to her on a spiritual level."

         so when she heard he was throwing a party she practically peed herself.

          "I expect some sort of payment for this," I say through clenched teeth.

    "you're missing an episode of SUITS, boo hoo, pour baby," she says unsympathtically, "now help me find derek."

          

            we awkwardly stand in the doorway of a frat were loud music assaults our ears and crazed frat boys dance under the influence of cheap beer, atleast for their sake I hope that's it.

          "ooh maybe if you paint with him for long enough the big artist in the sky will send you down a baby boy riding a rainbow with his best friend billy the bong."

         "shut up," she says, "if you're going to be such a downer I'm doing this alone."

        "have fun," I say letting my sarcasm do the talking. she turns and walks away, making me feel instantly guilty. I'll apologize later. soon she vanishes in a sea of bodies leaving me alone with no objective. if kirk was here he'd know what to do.

             don't think about kirk. kirk's not here, I scold myself, no use in burying yourself in ghosts.

          as I resolve to leave an achingly familiar scent enters my nose and a loud "shit" slips out of my lips. what is she doing here in this trashy human center of decay known as a faternity?

              I scan the crowd and spot her and adam about ten feet away. he has an arm draped around her shoulders but ignores her and engages in what must be a very interesting conversation with some letterman jacket wearing douches. 

             carolyn spots me and I experience that awkward jolt of dignity crushage you receive when caught staring . 

       

               definitely Suits time.

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