Good Morning, a

Guten morgen, guten morgen, guten morgen

I cut my hair. I hated the song that was playing while she did it, and vaguely I wondered if that was a sign. Once I thought it the idea wouldn't leave. Persistent motherfucker. Maybe the universe was telling me something. Or trying to, at least.

Letters to a girl, from a girl, written by a girl, for a girl, about a girl, around a girl.

"I've got a feeling, I think that everybody knows, oh no. Oh no!"