The night of the 14th/15th:
In my parents' house. Collin was already home from school, or hadn't gone. A bus of middle school kids was arriving. I somehow knew with complete certainty that they were zombies. Somehow, the front door would not close, and Collin (or was it me, and I simply also watched it happen?) got sucked under the door.
Evelyn wanted me to pronounce her name a specific way, and I kept fucking it up and got frustrated. Someone else came in and called us stupid.
It was some kind of party at someone's apartment in Chicago, some time in the late afternoon. We were standing on the back porch and it was raining ever so slightly. Someone realized there were too many people, and started moving everyone. Somehow this transitioned into a vast underground compound, important top-secret looking passages, we all kept getting lost. I was worried.
On a moving bus, Margot painted a bike on my right leg with black ink, intending to tattoo it on later.
