w7 not-curfew: everyone confess your crushes to ylfa.

[rewriter]

[we are depressed. we are in ikea. we are depressed in ikea.]

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[adorabrawler]

[ She is sitting with five cinnamon rolls from the cafeteria. ]

[piteous]

[ Eats one while she isn't looking. ]

[adorabrawler]

—Huh? Hey! Thief!

[piteous]

It was just there! Waiting to be eaten while you had four others!

[adorabrawler]

Noooo... What will I do without all five....

[piteous]

... Eat the last four.

[adorabrawler]

I don’t have four anymore! Everyone keeps stealing them!

[rewriter]

[joins her...]

Ready for tomorrow?

[adorabrawler]

We gotta be, right?

[rewriter]

It's literally do or die, sooooo...

[adorabrawler]

Yep.

Still, I'm going to give it my all.

[rewriter]

Me, too. We've come too far not to, you know?

[westedge]

[ drops down next to her. ]

Why so many?

[adorabrawler]

Why not so many?

[westedge]

Fair enough. What're your feelings on sharing though?

[adorabrawler]

Hmmmm.....

[ thinking very seriously about this ]

[westedge]

It doesn't have to even be a whole one. [ also very seriously (joking seriously.) ]

[adorabrawler]

Alright, you can have one, but only because I like you.

[westedge]

You are so good to me. [ picks up a cinnamon roll. ] At least we picked the place with slightly better food.

[adorabrawler]

IKEA has beds. McDonald's doesn't.

[westedge]

I guess it's also a lot easier when it's only us. [ and not forty people fighting for space. ] And less chances of waking up smelling like grease.

[adorabrawler]

Blegh. Yeah, no thanks. We spend enough time in there as it is.

[westedge]

Yeah, well, here's hoping we won't have to spend more time now and that'll be the end of it.

[adorabrawler]

Another eight weeks of nine hour McDonald's visits...

[westedge]

If that isn't an eight-word horror story, I don't know what is.