The Killer In Me Is The Killer In You

After a week that tried to kill me, last night was a Kiez speedrun. Maria’s belated 21st at the Knaack: first, fish and cucumber salad at Tomi’s parents’ place, then into the car to collect Sven and his cherry beer, over to Mandy’s to harass her guinea pigs Paul and Paula, back out with Rieke hunting for emos—found none, blamed the 80s music—stuffed €5 notes into Maria’s neckline, spent twenty minutes arguing with two law students about German pronunciation, then dragged myself home at 4am via McDonald’s, Big Mac and fries, and fell asleep on the couch watching Soloalbum. My favorite film. Didn’t make it to the end. But why is there straw lying here?