From 8049ada9c0f85a03fd4a1f74488aa6764fc17e59 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Scott-Clary Date: Mon, 20 May 2024 20:56:58 -0700 Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup --- writing/post-self/idumea/004.md | 4 +++- 1 file changed, 3 insertions(+), 1 deletion(-) diff --git a/writing/post-self/idumea/004.md b/writing/post-self/idumea/004.md index 55a51c94..ae8b78d6 100644 --- a/writing/post-self/idumea/004.md +++ b/writing/post-self/idumea/004.md @@ -162,4 +162,6 @@ We are very old, you see. Why, at this point, I am 323 years old! And The Woman Ah, dear readers, I am sorry that I cannot keep my thoughts from wandering an letting my pen trail after them like an eager puppy — yes, just like The Woman's rituals — and that such interrupts the story I am trying to tell! -All of this to say that The Woman and Her Lover spent some years together back in the first century of the System, back after secession but before she had fallen into her gentle stasis, before the goal of processing trauma was subsumed by the trauma itself. They had met — and you will not believe this, friends! — they had met at the very same cafe where The Woman and Her Friend met only days before. They had stumbled across each other +All of this to say that The Woman and Her Lover spent some years together back in the first century of the System, back after secession but before she had fallen into her gentle stasis, before the goal of processing trauma was subsumed by the trauma itself. They had met — and you will not believe this, friends! — they had met at the very same cafe where The Woman and Her Friend met only days before. They had stumbled across each other in the most romantic way possible: by ordering the same coffees at the counter. They both asked for the same mocha with extra whipped cream, gave each other a strange look, and then fell into laughter. + +