The narratives are peppered with choppy, romantic (but relatable) hyperbole, giving each story kind of a noir-ish sensibility, along with the black-and-white brick pattern that pervades each scene and the characters' '50s-ish retro style. This dark romanticism comes out strongly in the one about Justin; though he seems like a pretty nice dude from her Texas hometown who makes her feel less homesick, she gets caught talking shit about him and they break up. "And I was too caught up in cool, you see, and I got a kick out of badmouthing the men I loved at the time. So when Justin read my journal and saw all the cruel things I had written about him, he sent me away for good." This, of course, raises the question, "Why was the motherfucker reading her journal?" and makes me think about the power dynamic in this relationship. But she paints herself here as a disempowered woman, which is frustrating but understandable. It's ingrained in our minds as women that we should accept the blame for every bad thing that happens to us, and while we aren't given the whole story here, this situation indirectly reminds us of that as the pop-up depicts her standing on the street at night with her diary, wiping tears from her eyes, while hand-cut windows into the rowhomes behind her let us peer into Justin's mostly empty apartment.