spend your days saying "fine thanks, how are you," no question, all rhetorical. all that's left is to write it out.
So I watch them run and I wonder if I ever felt as free.
Surrounded by complaints, the love of tea is no longer sustaining my will to work. But with nowhere else to go, these rice balls make a great distraction from the stress of an overworked and underpaid tea slave.
and so the witch turned to look at me.
the peonies took on her scent.
I looked in her eyes, and fell under again.