The First Pet Rock

Georgia Park

I am a poet! I am. I am. I am a poet, I reaffirmed, ashamed.

Her texts had a way of spiraling downwards as they got closer together.  He sometimes ignored the first of them just to see how the pattern would progress; how the content would degrade.

“I’m just going to stay in and do some homework tonight. #imagentlemanANDascholar”

“Fuck it. I’m gonna get some pizza.”

“Great. Now I feel fat. :-/”

“I’m at the dog friendly bar.”

“It’s very coupley here.”

“That cute bartender is here.”

There was a lull in the text messages at this point, then they came again, around 11pm in rapidfire succession.

“Can I sleep with oyu tonite?” He decided to ignore this text, seeing as how she was obviously drunk again and there was only half a chance she meant it. But she went on.

“Josh is bad.”



“Cn you come get mee? pleas”

“Where are you?” He wrote back. She sent an address and…

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