Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Thousand: Six Hundred Fifty-Eight

more squares of the institutional umber wink up from the dark. Wandering out there wouldn’t be much different from plunging into a fogged-in room, especially if the unexpected ally of a glowing keybox decides it’s done. The girl sighs. More tired than she knows what to do with, she leans against the wall. She can see it, she can feel it, and if it’s about to hurry off on some errand, it hasn’t yet. Her legs wobble. So she slides down the wall until she’s sitting. Don’t big rooms feel like big rooms? Just before she discovered the keybox light

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