You say: “Not down. Out. There’s a difference.”
It’s that kind of save. The kind where the bass from the club three blocks down vibrates through the gravel beneath your sneakers. The kind where the sky is the color of a fresh bruise, and somewhere behind you, a bottle rolls in a lazy circle, half-full of something that tastes like cherries and bad decisions. Euphoria Save File HOT-
The euphoria kicks in again, warm and dishonest as a lover’s text at 2 AM. You say: “Not down
They say: “You’re gonna jump?”