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Go Muse, GO -- A Foray into Spontaneous Fiction
The tea bag floats like some bloated corpse in that hot water for ten minutes, and by the time she snaps out of it, jerks herself out of staring through the window at the garden (yellow, sickly garden that reminds her how fucked up this all is), it's already too late to fix anything.
There's no sugar in the house. Honey hides in a far corner of the ( Read more... )