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Madison Scott-Clary 2023-08-03 20:10:05 -07:00
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writing/post-self/marsh/002.md
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Champagne tinted evenings fade, as they do, into brandy-colored nights. Amber nights and fireplaces for the hell of it, me and Hanne settling in for a little bit of warmth for that last hour, not quite decadence and a ways off from opulence, but still a plush couch and a fire and snifters slightly too full of liquor. Champagne tinted evenings fade, as they do, into brandy-colored nights. Amber nights and fireplaces for the hell of it, me and Hanne settling in for a little bit of warmth for that last hour, not quite decadence and a ways off from opulence, but still a plush couch and a fire and snifters slightly too full of liquor.
We share our warmth and we continue to talk, talking of the year past, of years past beyond that, and of however many we decide would lay ahead of us. A hundred years? Two hundred? Only five? I argue passionately for five more years of life before I quit, then laugh, change my mind, and say I'll never die. Hanne says she'll live for precisely two hundred before quitting her instance and disappearing from Lagrange. She'll fork at a century and never speak to that version of her again, that exact duplicate, and should that instance decide to live on past two centuries, so be it, but she'd decided her expiration. We share our warmth, sitting side by side on the couch, and we continue to talk, talking of the year past, of years past beyond that, and of however many we decide are ahead. A hundred years? Two hundred? Only five? I make an impassioned argument for five more years of life, then laugh, change my mind, and say I'll never die. Hanne says she'll live for precisely two hundred, give up, and disappear from Lagrange. She'll fork at a century and never speak to that version of her again, that exact duplicate, and should that instance decide to live on past two centuries, so be it, but she'd decided her expiration.
**NOTES**
We share our warmth *(How are they sitting in space?)* and we continue to talk, talking of the year past, of years past beyond that, and of however many we decide ~{would lay}{are} ahead -{of us}. A hundred years? Two hundred? Only five? I ~{argue passionately}{demand} for five more years of life -{before I quit}, then laugh, change my mind, and say I'll never die. Hanne says she'll live for precisely two hundred ~{before quitting her instance and disappearing from Lagrange}{, give up, and disappear from Lagrange}. She'll fork at a century and never speak to that version of her again, that exact duplicate, and should that instance decide to live on past two centuries, so be it, but she'd decided her expiration.
**NOTES**
I scoff. "What? And leave me behind?" I scoff. "What? And leave me behind?"
@ -122,7 +118,7 @@ She rolls her eyes. "Tell Marsh I said–
"See? You're so weird." "See? You're so weird."
"I guess we are," I say, smiling and nudging Hanne upright once more. "Hey now, no falling asleep on me." "I guess we are," I say, smiling and nudging Hanne upright once more. A flash of déjà vu strikes me firmly in the right temple, a headache amid the buzz of alcohol. "Hey now, no falling asleep on me."
"Right, sorry. Still, uh...still fifteen minutes." She grumbles and rubs at her face. "Sorry if that came off as rude. I guess it's just outside my understanding." "Right, sorry. Still, uh...still fifteen minutes." She grumbles and rubs at her face. "Sorry if that came off as rude. I guess it's just outside my understanding."