23 Sphinx, Sunday Evening

Sunday, July 29th, 2012 07:53 pm
nookiepowered: (sad (crying))
Bo woke up coughing and clutching her neck, and for a long, kind moment, wondered who what the hell she'd eaten to make her dream about singing to a photo of a middle-aged woman in pink. Wearing pink herself and teaching a class. Ahahahaha. On good decision-making. Ahahahaha. With Deadpool. Ahahahahahahahahahaha. Ha.

Then the rest of it flooded back in, the details rearranging themselves into a clarity and order too raw to be just fragments of a dream. The things she'd done, done so many times in wispy memories from further back that now they'd been as easy as breathing. The thing she'd let herself become.

She didn't quite make it to the bathroom before she discovered the answers to what the hell she'd been eating. In every damn sense of the word, but especially the messy ones.

[For the wee Russian one who did not leave her TARDIS bathrobe in the hotel room.]
  • Current Mood: crushed
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