From 16bff236b9b90224c90d298b949c4726bf0e284e Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Scott-Clary Date: Sat, 5 Mar 2022 23:50:17 -0800 Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup --- writing/post-self/neviim/interlude/000.html | 6 +++--- 1 file changed, 3 insertions(+), 3 deletions(-) diff --git a/writing/post-self/neviim/interlude/000.html b/writing/post-self/neviim/interlude/000.html index 76a32cb1e..b8ab2c270 100644 --- a/writing/post-self/neviim/interlude/000.html +++ b/writing/post-self/neviim/interlude/000.html @@ -24,13 +24,13 @@

To their condolences, ey had simply raised eir cup of tea and nodded to them, saying, “To deny the end is to deny all beginnings.”

“Delphic, as ever,” Prakash said, though his smile and the lift of his own glass took any sting out of the words.

Ey smiled too, though ey could feel exhaustion tugging at eir cheeks. Ey had slept, ey knew, but did not remember when. “Oh, trust me, there is plenty more where that came from.”

-

“Where does it come from?” Carter asked.

+

“Where does it come from?” Avery asked.

“I am not sure.” Ey sipped at eir tea, still too hot to drink comfortably. “Whatever wellspring that was unstoppered in…in there.”

“Seems like it stuck around.”

Ey nodded.

“Think you’ll ever turn it into something?” Avery grinned to em. “You know, write a book. Something like that.”

“I had not thought of that. I do not know that I could make a plot out of what feels like millions of words in a rock tumbler. Perhaps a poem.”

-

“Even infinite monkeys,” Carter said, as she always did whenever the topic came up. “Either way, you look thrashed, RJ. You sleeping okay?”

+

“Even infinite monkeys,” Carter said, as she always did whenever the topic came up. She, of all of them, knew best. She had been in there with em for a few minutes or a few eternities. Another reason to like her. “Either way, you look thrashed, RJ. You sleeping okay?”

“No. Maybe. I do not know.”

Perhaps sensing some emotion deeper than exhaustion laying beneath the equivocation, the table fell silent, and ey once again looked out the window into the greying afternoon, thumb-tip tapping rhythmically along each of the contacts on the middle joints of eir fingers.

Once the food arrived, the mood loosened up, and ey was able to smile and laugh and take part in the conversation, and even managed to apologize for being a damper on lunch only twice.

@@ -80,7 +80,7 @@

Ey laughed, earnest and true. “I suppose so. I was going to say “the prophet is only a pipe that sounds when the past demands it”, and given that I cannot seem to live in this world anymore, that demand is getting to be overwhelming.”