Lately, it seems that’s always what’s glowing in red on top of the dresser when I open my eyes, suddenly sleepless, Esme warm against my ankle, roused by what feels like it must be the emotional equivalent of my stomach growling — because I know I’m not the slightest bit hungry.
Did I ever tell you that this one time, I dreamed I had enormous mutton-chop sideburns? I shaved them off, and they grew back as hundreds of tiny lavender flowers all over my cheeks.
Last week at the beach, V. introduced us to lip stain, which none of us had ever tried before. It looked so pretty on her that when we went to the drugstore, S. and I each bought one in the very same color. It’s not like lipstick at all. Instead, it comes as a stick with liquid inside, and it goes on like a magic marker, and if you touch your tongue to the stuff, it tastes kind of sweet and slightly, pleasantly bitter, and then it absorbs into your skin.
Amazingly, when we compared lips in the mirror, we discovered that it looked extremely fetching — and completely different — on each of us.
It stains my lips the same shade they’d naturally be if I had been kissing someone for a couple of hours.
I am happy with this purchase.
I’m so excited about getting to see the new section of Harry Potter world next summer! They have Hogsmeade now. What’s the name of that pub they always go to in Hogsmeade, again?
The Three Broomsticks.
That’s the one! Hey, maybe they’ll have firewhiskey there. Maybe we could drink firewhiskey.
MAYBE WE COULD DRINK FIREWHISKEY.