Red armchair in the back
of the independent clothing
store with three of your friends
piled up in it dressed like zombies,
trying not to get the fake
blood - sweet, sticky, and the
wrong shade of red - on any
of the merchandise. You
signed your names on their
wall with the confidence that
some things last forever.
A few years later you hear that
the store closed, a little too
independent for the locals, and
you wonder if you're feeling
nostalgic or just hungry.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
Red armchair in the back
of the independent clothing
store with three of your friends
piled up in it dressed like zombies,
trying not to get the fake
blood - sweet, sticky, and the
wrong shade of red - on any
of the merchandise. You
signed your names on their
wall with the confidence that
some things last forever.
A few years later you hear that
the store closed, a little too
independent for the locals, and
you wonder if you're feeling
nostalgic or just hungry.
