2017-08-15 - 10:33 p.m.
We were working with kids in a music center of some kind, looked like a warehouse made of wood. It was cordial. We kissed once, that was all.
At the end, it turned out she'd been pressing a small phillips head screw into the flesh of her forearm, one for every day we'd been working together. The wounds were all fresh, and when she squeezed her arm, blood oozed, and the tops of the screws were visible.
