slouching in the chair at his desk typing, just typing not even really thinking about whats coming out because he feels what hes writing it is becoming more than words, especially when its in her shadow. truthfully he loves this girl hes known for several years of immaturity, he wants to sail her ship the correct way but the wind just isnt blowing, never really knowing where his life path leads he knows now they are not meant to be, parks with swings and the blackest of coffee will remind him or her face and where she got bit by a snake