you know my name not my
Overwhelming desire to become a pigeon. Words cannot express my dire need to have beautiful grey feathers and glorious wings so that I may fly and feast upon dropped hotdogs and breadcrumbs.
And a traitor.
But at the moment, I don’t care. Not what he says, or who he says it for, only that he is still capable of speech.
That’s my only mission. Finish him.
She won’t be able to handle it.