Aug. 6th, 2016

jedusor: (seattle gay pride)
Remember when I said that the story of me and Ava was narratively perfect in a pretentious literary-fiction sort of way?

I just found these socks she gave me. I think we were fifteen, or I was fourteen and she was fifteen, and she was living in Thailand for a year through an exchange program. I can't believe it's been more than a decade. She found these socks at a place selling recycled American tourist crap, along with pirated DVDs and such, and she got them for me because I was just coming out of my Lord of the Rings RPF phase and she thought it was funny. It was funny--I wore them so much the cheap fabric gave up the ghost a year or two later, and then I just kept them for sentimental reasons. After she died, everything she'd given me got sad, so I tucked them in the back of my sock drawer and forgot about them.

My friend is having a clothing exchange today, so I was going through my dresser, and I found them again. They're ankle socks, pink, printed with the message I ♥ ORLANDO.

I'm telling you, I'm living in some stuck-up first-year MFA student's early draft of the great American novel, and I can feel the poor prof's forehead thunking against the manuscript.

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