The morning is the best and the worst thing. It carries the appropriate smells and other sensations better than any other time of day. But oh! What I must do with it! Choke down food, put together some kind of apparel, go forth into the world, like a white armed girl with golden hair and a thin-lipped smile. She makes me want to knock her aside with my riding whip.

But afternoon perhaps will stem the leeching of my blood out of my eyes, turn living in the realm of the living a little more acceptable, wrapped up as it is and will be in the taste of court cases, the indexing of pleadings, and the ringing of phones. It will, at least give me something else to focus on.

<<agé chose>>

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