Pizza stains stain her rusty old books;
pages dog-eared and smelling like coffee dates and drags of a stale cigarette, she wishes for late night walks and New York subway rides, the green-blue hue of the underground’s lights swirl by like she was casted in an independent movie film filled with drunken stupors and graffiti-filled alleyways.

He walks back to her creaky-old apartment, her college literature class starting at 8:30am tomorrow yet he persists in walking back to her creaky-old apartment, green flannel catches her apartment's door with the broken lock, his beer-induced thoughts infused with the idea of her in his green flannel, laying on a sofa that’s 70% fluff and 20% couch;