A rose-cheeked girl, alone in the garden, butterfly perched on her knee, eyes closed meditatively— what pretty, romantic thoughts might be dancing in her mind?
Her thoughts: “Omg, remember the time I took a poop so big that it wouldn’t go down the toilet, the poop was even like, ‘Lol, there’s no way I’m fitting through there, bro.’”
Alriiiight, let's just leave her to her thoughts in privacy then, shall we?
-j
