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Victor Hugo goes up to the counter and describes the drink he wants in detail for an hour, laying out the minutiae of the process, presentation, and backstory of his extremely simple dark roast with sugar. By the time he’s finished, the store is closed, the barista has left, and Victor returns home empty-handed.
"you’re gay/bi? I’m sorry but like… how do I know you won’t have a crush on me?" because you just said that
i have been so jumpy the last couple of days like been having mini heart attacks at every fucking noise why
animal update: they took the “collection of geese, ducks, and chickens” to some family land outside the city proper, but apparently decided they would continue to keep the goats and the alpaca next door