Wild card inside.

On the longest day of the year, I've deactivated my dating website accounts, all two of them, and unsubscribed to the email digests as well. Because as nice as it would be to have a romantic partner, and as successful as I might be at getting one from a more reputable website - I'd rather stay in and write. I haven't had much time for that in the last couple of weeks, and I'd like to get back to it on a regular basis soon. It won't do me good to keep dividing up my focus. If anyone wanted to set me up I'd give it a try, but I don't have the inclination to work my way through websites maximized for mobile platforms. Which still strikes me as a bad business model.

Writing it is.

On the longest day of the year, I went to the roof to watch a few minutes of the sunset. There were clouds all over the sky; I could tell because even the moon was a little hazy, just past half and soft at the edges. Over to the West, sharp oranges and reds fletched towards where the sun had gone past the horizon - not jagged gashes, not slashes, just colors without any fading or transition. Above them, in front of them, cool gray shapes without direction or desire, a few hanging low enough to pretend to be mountains. I circled around the roof, looking down at other buildings, and by the time I got back and went downstairs, the color was gone from the sky. The day was long, but it didn't wait around to go.