The drip, she realized, was just another name for love when you’ve forgotten how to cry without an audience.
For a moment, she saw herself without the filter: a girl who dyed her hair lavender because she missed being a person before she became a vessel. A girl who built Momdrips as a dam against the flood of ordinary loneliness. lauren pixie momdrips
The Milk of the Algorithm
She set the phone down, face against the wood grain. The drip, she realized, was just another name