Or should it be before Death associates?
It was “Managements” descion and they would choose whichever the demagraphic found more comforting.
The papers on the table softly rustled as a cool fall breeze sifted through the room. The air felt alive against her skin.
It would be morning in a few hours and time to sleep. Never enough hours in the night in the land of the black swan. ~she smiled~
Hideously perfect.
Old movies and the Eagles on the radio. Lovely living wallpaper. The work environment here suited her. The computers glowed blue and green and hummed that gentle whirl of new technology.
Given enough thought she could most likely talk herself out of being a part of the coming revolution, it was all so perfect and dark. So simple. They would never see it coming.
That reminded her…she had to go shopping – If the revolution *was* to be televised she wanted to look smashing.
Now she was hungry. Thoughts of fashion had that effect…
Definatly in the mood for Chinese she thought as she looked out the window watching the delivery boy cross the street.
I hope he remembered the fortune cookies.
what the fuck you are all fucking weirdos