mental link, day :039

[polyphonos]

[The soft, rhythmic hiss of cards shuffling. Something honeyed on the tongue. The tang of citrus in the air. Cathaway's mind is an irregular, wavering thread picking crooked stitches through the Station.]

( Ilde and us were hard at work while you all were gone. We'd like to treat you to dinner tomorrow. )

Comments

[futurewitness]

( Thank you. That's very kind of you both. )

[ Semi-pleasant family dinners are exactly the kind of thing she remembers just well enough to miss, once the world went to zombie hell. ]

[polyphonos]

( Think nothing of it. )

[The thought is laced with an easiness parallel to a dismissive sweep of the hand.]