A lot has happened since I started writing in this scroll. Not just what happened with the murder, but with me. Somehow, the days seem shorter to me. Late at night, after reading from or writing on the scroll, I feel an immense lethargy in my limbs.
My daughter, Fiona has noticed it, too. At dinner, she told me that she learned about similes in school today. I asked her to give me an example. She took a moment.
“The lines around your nose are deep and distinct, like trails up a mountain.”
She made another rather unnerving comment when I put her to bed. As usual, I bent over and gave her a kiss. She returned a smile, and asked why my hair is so gray like the skies on a rainy day?
My Fiona never fails to amaze me.
5th of Last Seed.
5th of Last Seed.
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