It begins innocuously enough at Settler's. The air is fraught with tension, if only because I am unable to speak, my hand flying across the page as I scribble triangle after triangle. In frustration at the cries of "Pyramid! Pyramid!" I spread my elbows out to indicate wider - Egypt is what I am looking for, and instead I create a brown Nile when I knock over my ice lemon tea and stain my grey corduroys.
Nevermind that - Morphus insists, small comfort though it was, that she has been the perpetrator of such countless acts (of creating Niles and Amazons) and I shouldn't be too distressed. After moping up at The Cathay, we wander back over to PS for Cartel, where promptly, as the Leng decides to get up from the table for bread - my pasta fork flips from the table and splotches onto my white top. I do not think I've had so many accidents in one day - it's appalling. And I had to resist running into Cotton O. to get a new skirt - or - a new something.
It's been a long time since I spilled things down my clothes but at least the stain's mostly out. Good.
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