I've had this strange thrill in my stomach for days.

In my head it's warmer than the actual weather. The other night when we sat outside and I wouldn't go home, I didn't even notice I was shivering until someone told me, and still I kept pretending warmth to myself, tucking my arms in close and edging toward that crazy lantern, wanting to never go home.

So, Michael disapproved of my screenless windows, and I told him to shove it, but nicely. Since then though, I've been dreaming of strange insects flying through my windows and it's actually sort of beautiful. They start out a bit creepy, but then become these huge circular butterflies, swooping around like living kites, trying to make me love them and succeeding. Last night in my sleep I was rounding them up and guiding them outside so that I could go to bed, because at a certain point in the night it's time for the wild flying visitors to leave.

Tonight I guess I'll meet Sam at the metal bar. I don't particularly like it there, but maybe I can talk him into someplace else after a little bit, with a quick detour over to the river to take some pictures of danger. I'll lure him to San Diego, and we'll shiver by the lanterns, and I'll keep my eyes open for thrilling developments.