People. people are predictable. I can not afford to be predictable my life depends on that but love, love is what kept me open, alive, different, real. And I also can't afford to do love so you see my dilemma. Lady how many photos dose it take? Come on.

"Are you like, "lady come on. How many photos does it take?" Crazy thing is, she never posts any of them. That's, like, gotta be a diagnosis, right?"

Precocious, unsupervised kid who thinks she's not a kid.

"Ms. Strauss secretly has six chihuahuas so she walks them in shifts and you, your will Bettelheim. LA newbie"

"Yeah that's me" Who is protecting her, no no she is not my problem. " what's your insta or do you only have a finsta". "I'm a little behind the times". "Clearly anyway, I'm @Ellie-Eyeballs".

"So... you have a girlfriend yet?" As she aimlessly fiddled with a strand of hai

Holy shit "Ellie, how old are you? Like 15?" "16. Basically 17,so...

Who's protecting you. N.No, she's not my problem "It was nice to meet you"holding out his hand to shake "Cool. Manners."

"So Delilah, she's not a hooker. It's what you're thinking, right? Yeah, No, she's a reporter, that guy's a publicist and he just paid so crazy kill fee to not run something about something famous it's sick, she's a genius"

"Ellie no harassing the tenants" Delilah shouts from the courtyard below "I'm not. We're old friends." Ellie says not allowing Delilah to win "well smart-ass your late for school" she's too young to be Ellie's mom Delilah stops and asks "is that my shirt? That's my fucking shirt. How many times...?

Sisters. as their conversation veers off into standard family drama my other side is going into overdrive. I feel the need to protect this kid begin to form a. feeling I need to take control of I can't become involved in their entire red flag galaxy.

"Hey." His attention snaps back to reality as Delilah yells at him. "If you lay a finger on her I will vivisect your individual scrotums"

Responding with "she's a kid." She could be my kid... no no fuck no that's not happening.Not again.

A new bookstore and a new apron joy while having to sell Russian books to Americans who come to Anavrin a pristine, non-GMO Disneyland to get spring lettuce mix and stay for the perfect life that could be theirs if you spend enough and quit gluten, you fucking assholes.But this isn't New York anymore it's LA and I'm not joe Goldberg any more I'm Will Bettelheim and then again...

Hello...you. No, fuck, no, I'm not doing that. I'm not gonna try to figure out who you are, and why you look so concerned about the state of that heirloom tomato. The mystery woman then collides with another shopper " "oh sorry did I get you." she asks "Are you okay" so you have a way with people. They just like you. Your shirt is faded but fresh you like to take care of things. Your shoes are clean, but more. You walk in a town where no one walks. I won't say hello, I won't accidentally bump into you, addiction management is key no more than 10 minutes a day and 5 of which have already been used by talking with Ellie so...

"Excuse me." Shit "does this peach look like a butt. There is no wrong answer" she asks is she flirting "um yeah it looks a little like a butt yeah" he responds "hm thank you" I think you are but I can't I should walk away "were you following me?" She says sensing his lack of engagement in the conversation double shit. Truth. That is what will shut this down, truth. "Not initially, but then yes. I was, completely. I am sorry, if I seemed skeevy." "