hey35andholding: (over the shoulder)
And up the stairs they come, to the Dan-blessed door of Clementine's domicile.

That room remains a contradiction. It's filled with paisleys and prints that belong in the distant past - Navajo patterns, psychedelic tie-dye and batiked violets. Yet is somehow neat as a pin, and manages to work as a collective whole. It smells heavily of an ambery incense and the lighting seems to be stuck permanently on a 'cheap highway motel' setting.


"So..." she says, tossing her bag on the rickety table nearest the TV set, "here we are." Bed or sofa? She picks the sofa quickly, lounges upon it alluringly, and arches her chest. "Can I...get you anything?"

Coffee, tea...boob?

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hey35andholding

December 2022

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