Dedicated to Lois, who seems only to have swollen lymph nodes after all, not an ominous abdominal mass, and who's already back to helpfully standing on the keyboard and stomping on my head, the dear little fuzzhead.
The Red Door
(or, a Postmodern Prometheus)
(
Chapter 14: Atlantis' Rinse Cycle )
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ps. we're both up far to early this morning...still dark hereabouts. meep.
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Sending you and Lois both a little face rub greeting from Moonshadow.
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The other day when it was blustery out and leaves were swirling everywhere, she kept running at trees, dashing up the trunks, then leaping down and running to the next, like a crazy thing. ::g::
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