[ As texting necessarily means light from the phone screen, Kurt tries to call instead. His voice comes out high, panicked, often interrupted by static and the sound of something dragging against glass. ]
Kurt, hi. It's, uh... it's me. I know you don't want to talk to me right now, but I just... I wanted to say again how sorry I am. I'm still... I don't know. Everything's so confusing. And I miss you, I don't... I don't know what to do. I'm sorry. Please talk to me.
Also you were in my dream last night. You were performing and I was in the audience and you threw a miniature doll-version of you into the crowd and I was sad I didn't catch it. I wonder what that means.
I met this guy, he and his girlfriend are both into a capella. That's why I asked. I don't know how good they are, but he said they were in a college competition.
It won't be like the Warblers if that's what you're worried about. No council or stifling blazers. In fact, you could make the costumes if you want. And everyone will get a chance at solos, always. What do you think?
Do you have enough tea? I'm assuming you do; I know you're better at preparing for things than I am. But I thought I'd ask just in case. I have plenty down here if you need some. Just let me know.
I know you never got back to me about the singing group idea, but I hope you're thinking about it. I think we could really do some interesting things here. Maybe a Disney medley?
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its fuckin crazy out there. u ok?
[call]
— eil there's — rywhere — in the c — ear me?
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[ Static, then the call drops. ]
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no subject