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@pulitzerlost  || liked ♡

       ❛❛ — normally, t’e individuals i end up talkin’ to are products of t’e forever morally-starved american dregs o’ society. not precocious authors whose work i’ve actually happened t’ read, yeh. ❜❜ refreshment glitters in a usually muted black gaze, a pallid hand extended for suitable introduction.  ❛❛ robin. robin donahue. i don’t expect ya t’know who i am. an’ if you do, treat me as if y’ don’t. first impressions are better t’at way, right ?  ❜❜

^{_{the   woman   receives   him   with   slender,   perfect   fingers,   a   lawyer’s   smile   that   answers   his   question   wordlessly.   she   knows   the   music   business,   reads   the   magazines   that   pile   on   her   bedside,   has   heard   of   robin donahue.   she   even   knows   how   she’d   reference   him,   the   words   to   use   :   feverish,   fatalistic,   a   mirror   darkly.   still,   the   handshake   cements   the   agreement,   and   she   says   nothing.   ‘   the   way   i   see it,   everything’s   cracking   up.   is   that   what   you’re   interested   in?   everything   cracking   up?   ’}}