update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/idumea/003.md

@@ -40,4 +40,32 @@ There was no relief within her that. There were no thoughts of, ah, today is the
 
 In fact, I would say that there was perhaps even a sort of protectiveness. I think that she felt some sort of ownership of this concept. I think that she felt like this ending of joy was hers and hers alone. Something to keep to herself until perhaps, some day, she might share it and become still at last, or perhaps even beyond then. It was hers to set before herself and admire or loathe. It was hers to wrap up in pretty paper or hide away in the back of a drawer. I think she may have felt jealousy.
 
-And so it was that The Woman, today a human, 
+And so it was that The Woman, today a human, today, as ever, dressed plainly, made herself a peanut butter and banana sandwich with the crusts cut off and poured herself a glass of soy milk and walked out into the field outside her house. She had to balance her sandwich atop her drink in order to complete the ritual of passing through the front door, but she had done this countless times before.
+
+The table and chairs sat nearly a mile out from the tenth stanza's house, sprouting senselessly from the grass as easy and carefree as yet more dandelions. A simple square table with two chairs set before adjacent sides so that she need not look her therapist in the eye, so that they might each stair out into some similar distance, so that they may feel companionship, though The Woman never could explain how that worked.
+
+And so The Woman, today a human, walked the mile to the table and sat down her glass of soy milk and began to eat her sandwich. When, at last, there were only two bites left and the glass was half empty, she sent a delicate ping to Her Therapist, who appeared beside the table, paws folded and kind smile on her face. The visage of a skunk lasted no longer than a second before, with a rapid fork, a human stood before her — for her therapist endeavored always to mirror her species lest she influence The Woman's own, though she leaned far harder into gender-play, and one would be hard pressed to not also see her as a young man — and bowed, then pulled out the chair beside her and sat down. 
+
+"I will be finished in a moment, Ever Dream," The Woman said just as she did every session. "Just a few bites left."
+
+"Of course, End Of Endings," Her Therapist echoed in the time-honored ritual. "Please take your time."
+
+The Woman gave a hint of a bow and enjoyed the last two bites of her sandwich as well as she was able, following each with a sip of soy milk, all while Her Therapist made herself comfortable, sitting back in her chair and gazing out over the field of grass and dandelions, a half-smile on her face.
+
+When at last she dusted her hands free of imagined crumbs, The Woman sat back in her chair, her drink held in both hands — she, like me, enjoys that she can create a drink that stays at precisely the most delicious temperature — Her Therapist smiled and nodded. "Tell me, my dear, how are you feeling?"
+
+"I am feeling alright. I have been cleaning and cooking. I have been going out on walks and stepping away from the sim. I spoke with my friend for several hours some days back, and that provided me with comfort and joy."
+
+"That is delightful to hear," Her Therapist said. "Can you tell me of this joy? I love to hear what it is that makes you happy."
+
+The Woman thought long on this. I would like to imagine she was turning her thoughts on jealousy and protectiveness over and over within her head, investigating them like some bauble, searching for cracks or imperfections, or simply admiring how the mirror-like surfaces never picked up her fingerprints. I think perhaps she was trying to derive the formulae that describe their shapes so that she could better understand them. I think, also, that she had to do her best to suppress a wince.
+
+"Was it a complex sort of joy, End Of Endings?"
+
+She sipped her soy milk in an attempt to maintain control over herself, as sometimes all you need is a thing that you can do deliberately. "It is, yes. It is a joy to see one's friends, is it not? To give energy and to receive in turn? We sat down at our favorite coffee shop and chatted about this and that. We talked of empty chairs at the table. We talked of moods and therapy. I believe– yes?"
+
+Her therapist lowered her hand from where she had raised it. "I do not know No Hesitation as well as I might, for which I feel some regret, but In Dreams confided with In Memory, and my down-tree confided in me that she had some fears that she had offended em. Given the structure of our stanza, I think it perhaps unwise that I know too much of that particular conversation."
+
+-----
+
+(the tenth stanza lingers in suffering and defines themselves by it, just as the seventh does with therapy)