I will be mean.

Dear Zonk,

The next time I get into a train I’m going to be mean. I’m going to smash my way through walls of women and poke them with my pointy elbows and stare them down with my a steely eye. And they are going to quiver and back away and melt into the walls of the train, or, you know, not get on the train at all so I’d have some space and some room to breathe. And there will be room to breathe. And there will be no need for any Clonazepam. And I will stand around and be grim and nonchalant and when Thane comes, I will step off the train in an effortless and ladylike fashion.

Fucking bastard train.

Love always,
K.

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