Pick Your Poison, Monday

[joan_of_bark]

Dark skies and the threat of rain. Fall was a time of change, of preparing for death so that rebirth could come when the sun rose higher again. Pam had always liked it; it often suited the tense swings of her mood.

Not today, though. She found herself glancing outside occasionally as she went through the shop checking the inventory, and every time she thought: this is too somber for me now. She'd risen from the death already, and her very being ached for spring.

But alas, she was still too human to sleep until her time. And so with a melancholic sigh, she moved on to the shampoos.

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