I could almost be lulled into believing nothing had changed, but the formidable reality of Heir Max 98 hung between us, a dark shape that was blurred around the edges like a smudge or a distortion in the fabric of space and time.
“It’s like discovering a little snag of the secret thread that runs beneath the surface of things,” I told them. “Something ancient and beautiful that somehow also feels super familiar.”
Hi. It’s Odious. It’s strange to be writing to you on a computer. Opening my heart while being hooked up to the Internets induces a special kind of loneliness.