vi agitatedly played her guitar, strumming her strings mindlessly, huffing every few seconds like an angry child. she was scribbling down lyrics then ripping pages out, with you sitting on the couch on the other side of the room, scrolling on your phone.

vi was tempted to just throw the guitar out the window, but, not with company. “i’m out of fuckin’ ideas..” she mumbled, trying her hardest not to kick a hole through the table infront of her, with piles of scrunched up paper balls on.