Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Drabble: Comfort food.

In that hour before the sun comes out, when night fools itself into believing in eternity, her eyes opened. She thought of the returned letter, filled with beer-basted crocolisk and grilled dragon. She sent the crocolisk to Luperci, (couldn't let this go to waste). In a very un-ladylike manner, Matty flopped on the curb, shared the dragon meat with a friendly rat, and flame-shocked him: at least he met his glirine maker with a full tummy. She didn't care if the dinner was full of fat and salt, and made her feel chubby. Eating it made her feel temporarily better.

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