Sir-Kelianov

The conversation in front of me held no meaning, but I listened absentmindedly, nonetheless. Turning out of boredom to my left, I find the window to be much more entertaining. Trees. Trees. Trees. All it was was a meshed web of green flying by. Behind the driver, I sat watching the foliage from my backseat window. I shared said seat with a brand new plunger; it mocked the emptiness of the space next to me. Head pounding, jaw clenching, and brow furrowing, I turned away from it to, again, look at the greenery in avoiding the tool's ever present jeering. Nothing was defined; the world was a blur, reminiscent of the trees. Jamming my eyes shu