night picnic

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I’m not sure which part I like best: before, when we were cramming all of the day’s shopping into a few hours, racing from Kamdar to Cold Storage, barging into Xin Yi’s house without her at home and using her kitchen to make sangria and sponge cake, driving around town looking for heavy cream, and all the tired dinners that followed afterwards, or

after, when most had left and we were too lazy to move, so we lay spread out under the sky doing nothing and feeling sentimental until past midnight.

At the very least it didn’t turn out to be a ‘cute high school friend’s flop’.

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