the teapots are still on my bed. i pick them up one by one and put them in a far corner, by the window, where i won't accidentally step on them and break them as i wake up. or get out of bed, whatever the right words are. i go and turn the lights out too, since i'm already standing up and if i don't turn it off now, i'll be too lazy later and have a hard time falling asleep.

i fall into my bed. the ukulele is still there. i pick it up and strum it to check if the thing's still in tune. i still don't know if it is. i feel out the frets and the strings, since it's too dark to see now. sometimes, when people are undying, they go blind, and i don't think i'll still be able to paint when i'm blind, so i'll just play the ukulele. maybe i could even write a song. i only know about six or seven chords, but then so does taylor swift, so i'll be fine.

c, and f, a-minor, and g. and another c, just because g is a really awkward chord to end on.

« je ne chante pas un mot, » juliet says from outside.

— bien.

i don't sing, but i just hum the tune out. c, and f.

stay, stay, stay.

— juliet, do you think robyn hates me?

« comment, chérie? »

— c'est rien.

i hum through the whole song, just because the chords are easy enough to play in the dark. after a couple takes, the sound of pillows hitting the floor interrupts me.

so i guess it's time to try and go to bed.