I have too much clothes, when I don't use them for a couple of weeks strange things start to happen.
Earlier today I was trying on a jacket I hadn't worn since New Year's, and in one of the pockets I found a note with a hand written phone number. I had completely forgotten about that, maybe because I wanted to. It was such a weird night, I've never done anything that crazy, and that still intrigues me a little. I have no name to the number but I remember the boy who gave it to me, I remember his smell and his arms around me.
I really want to call but then there's Henry, sweet Henry who is always so nice to me. Oh, what should I do?
(By the way, I just started something new...)