Near the post office, Thursday
Tip stood right where she had for the last . . . while. Maybe a foot or two closer to the post office. It was hard to tell, the shifting fog made distances a little iffy.
Not that Tip noticed or cared what the fog did. Or where she was going. Or how almost glacially slowly she was going there.
To anyone passing by, Tip looked just like an enormous, ruined statue. It was best not to stop and look closely at her, though. If you did she might notice you. And if she noticed you --
She moved faster attacking than she did just walking. Just fast enough to catch you with an enormous, crushing foot. Even if her foot only caught the trailing edge of your clothing, that was alright. It wasn't as though you'd be able to push her off of it. She had another foot. And a hand. She didn't care how the crushing happened, just so long as it happened at all.
[open]
Not that Tip noticed or cared what the fog did. Or where she was going. Or how almost glacially slowly she was going there.
To anyone passing by, Tip looked just like an enormous, ruined statue. It was best not to stop and look closely at her, though. If you did she might notice you. And if she noticed you --
She moved faster attacking than she did just walking. Just fast enough to catch you with an enormous, crushing foot. Even if her foot only caught the trailing edge of your clothing, that was alright. It wasn't as though you'd be able to push her off of it. She had another foot. And a hand. She didn't care how the crushing happened, just so long as it happened at all.
[open]