As if it all means something.

The room takes a green hue; the sun decided to set between two birch trees. I saw Humanity take off her nightgown through the upstairs window. She smiles like she knows something I do not.

Scoffing and snickering over a brief lunch with a talking head. You can see the air dripping from his nostrils and pouring out his mouth. It's almost grotesque.

As if it were his birthday, Sorrow takes the stairs in two to meet Disaster at the top. You're too late, Disaster is mine.

Drink the tea, Culture might get offended.

But it's not. Remember that when you think you see someone that looks like him. It will only drive you crazy with Desire. She's only interested in lovers, not friends.

Tell me a story, you demand of Flirtation. Tell it to me so I can use it on the next poor soul. Oh but we are all just a field of poor souls. You can pick us like daisies.

The waiter bumps him with the tray and his head falls forward, forcing the words to spray out unintentionally and land on his chest. I hope they won't leave a stain, I say and he tells me they never do.

They spelled out "pick me."

As if it all means something.