MOODBOARD: lee dynamics.
lee & eden /// @rekant
Lee pours Eden coffee into a ceramic mug (what color, inconsequential, fill it in with your mind here). So full the black coffee bulges out like a dilated pupil. […] “Does fate leave room for milk? Or is it black to the brim? What do you suppose.”
lee & johnson /// @alulars
Someone misjudged Brandt’s attendance rate. The line inside the bookshop uselessly and uglily switchbacks several times, intestine-like, before it disembowels out the front door and onto the sidewalk. Johnson talks to no one as he waits. He smiles to no one as he waits; not even when he reaches the front of the line almost an hour later. An hour could be nothing to a being like him. But time contracts through him like blood in fisted hands. Each moment is pressurized, dense, and felt. He sets the new copy of Brandt’s novel on the table in front of them; he will throw it away in the nearest trashcan—public or not—once he exits the shop. “For Lee. Lee Melanthom.”