Pitchers with Pete

Our voices harshed and open. we reconnect over overpriced pitchers and underrated clash songs in the newest hipster bar to reach northern liberties. the table: cut from an old bowling alley lane, still had the marks of the bowling balls that put smiles on faces. we disucussed our individual madness, and distorted perceptions on the way things were. Our smallest sentences spoke volumes to our souls, and for once- I felt okay.