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update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2023-06-29 14:44:54 -05:00
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<li>The romance caduceus</li>
</ul>
<h3 id="write-a-myth-that-originates-in-your-community-or-family">Write a myth that originates in your community or family</h3>
<p>The day that Matthew died, he poured himself a glass of gin, tossed in two ice cubes, splashed in some Lillet, and sat at his desk to, for the million billion trillionth night in a row, talk with the family he had built up around himself.</p>
<p>The day that Matthew died, he poured himself a glass of gin, tossed in two ice cubes, splashed in some Lillet, and sat at his desk to, for the million billion trillionth night in a row, talk with the family he had built up around himself, one more sturdy than the one he&rsquo;d been assigned at birth.</p>
<div class="codehilite"><pre><span></span><code><span class="nv">Koray</span> <span class="nv">arrives</span> <span class="nv">from</span> <span class="nv">the</span> <span class="nv">foyer</span>.
<span class="nv">Koray</span> <span class="nv">murmurs</span>, <span class="s2">&quot;</span><span class="s">Margaras would come here, yes?</span><span class="s2">&quot;</span>
<span class="nv">Kuttas</span> <span class="nv">says</span>, <span class="s2">&quot;</span><span class="s">Possible. Who&#39;s asking?</span><span class="s2">&quot;</span>
@ -61,9 +61,10 @@
</code></pre></div>
<p>There was no gasp, no immediate stream of tears. Breathing remained carefully paced for five, ten, perhaps thirty minutes. It was not a meditation. It was not a contemplation. It was a refusal to change.</p>
<p>He stood from his seat, picked up his glass of watered-down Beefeater&rsquo;s, and walked into his husband&rsquo;s room &mdash; his husband, who had to leave for work at 4:45 that morning, perhaps five hours off &mdash; and sat down on the edge of the bed, and only then did he cry.</p>
<p>He stood from his seat, picked up his glass of watered-down Beefeaters, and walked into his husband&rsquo;s room &mdash; his husband, who had to leave for work at 4:45 that morning, perhaps five hours off &mdash; and sat down on the edge of the bed, and only then did he cry.</p>
<p>He cried down into his glass, salted his drink with tears, sniffled grossly, apologized and apologized and apologized for waking his husband up, let his husband rub his back and murmur sleepy consolations.</p>
<p>They talked, then, for perhaps twenty minutes. That name was spoken dozens of times, cherished for these last few decade before it falls out of our mouths forever. He said his goodnights, his I-love-yous, finished the last swallow of his drink &mdash; now more water than alcohol &mdash; and stood again to lay down in his own bed and die.</p>
<h3 id="what-would-happen-if-the-first-and-last-exercises-were-read-together-as-a-diptych">What would happen if the first and last exercises were read together as a diptych?</h3>
</article>
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<p>Page generated on 2023-06-29</p>