From effa844d74e61b2f6d45c83d92569318acf0c2c8 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Scott-Clary Date: Sat, 3 Feb 2024 16:45:11 -0800 Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup --- writing/post-self/marsh/prophecies.html | 2 +- 1 file changed, 1 insertion(+), 1 deletion(-) diff --git a/writing/post-self/marsh/prophecies.html b/writing/post-self/marsh/prophecies.html index eb1ca64b8..17d92552b 100644 --- a/writing/post-self/marsh/prophecies.html +++ b/writing/post-self/marsh/prophecies.html @@ -20,7 +20,7 @@

Even if it was not the type of place for the target of their search, it was still incredibly endearing, and she made a note to herself to return some day.

“Afternoon, friends,” the barista said, grinning to them. “Two mochas? Extra whipped cream?”

Caught off-guard by having her order guessed for her, Slow Hours froze, brow furrowed.

-

If I Dream elbowed her in the side, murmuring, “I have canvased this place before. Do not worry about it.” More loudly, she said, “Precisely. Thank you, Hasher.”

+

If I Dream elbowed her in the side, murmuring, “I have canvased this place before. Do not worry about it.” More loudly, she said, “Yes, though please make it three. Thank you, Hasher.”

Still frowning, Slow Hours allowed herself to be guided down the counter to wait for their drinks to be picked up. She set up a cone of silence over her and her cocladist, more for the relative quiet that it offered than for privacy.

“Are you sure this is the place?” she asked.

If I Dream nodded. “Yes, quite sure. Hasher was the one who tipped me off, and I…have seen her outside.”