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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
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Astrid wiped her mouth in disgust, shaking her head before looking away at the offending patch of grass. The aftertaste of the olive was still in her mouth, something akin to a delightful cocktail of cockroach and blue cheese. She grabbed a carton of orange juice from her bag to wash away the sensation, but just as the straw touched her lips, she heard a voice from nearby, clearly directed at her.

Astrid spun around, a steely glare fixed onto her face, totally prepared to tell whoever it was to fuck off and give her some space. The words were almost out of her mouth, before she saw exactly who it was and her expression softened.

It was hard, even for Astrid, to dislike Colleen. She was generally polite and pleasant to everyone she met – perhaps a little naively so – and she was also a hard worker. She was smart and got good grades, and although they were never really in the same social groups and didn’t spend much time outside of classes together, Astrid could definitely respect her.

Beyond that, Astrid also felt a sort of kinship with Colleen thanks to their shared… irregularities. It wasn’t as though it was anything to be proud of, and Astrid wished more than anything that the accident had never happened, but there was still a weird sort of bond between them. Like meeting someone who had the same first name as you.

Astrid managed to muster a grim smile at Colleen, taking a short sip of orange juice before placing it back down on the table.

“Nah, nothing that bad. Although it looks like I’m going hungry today, this thing’s got olives in it.” Astrid shot a dark look at the plastic container and muttered under her breath.

“Fucking hate olives…”

As Astrid was busy berating her salad, a third person joined the scene. Astrid was… alright with Travis. He had a habit of cracking some dumb joke in any given situation, which had gotten old and irritating on about the second day of knowing him. His constantly laid-back attitude was equally as annoying, but somehow, his schoolwork remained decent, if not spectacular, and aside from that, there wasn’t really anything to complain about him.

Then again, they didn’t spend much time together either…

“Alright, I guess,” Astrid said. “Was going better earlier today, after all.”

Astrid nodded at the bench, her way of saying she was fine with them sitting down with her.


"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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A Salad of Anger · Grounds