December 16th, 2009

Pick Your Poison

Grab Bag

Same old mall. Warm, big, no more of that awful music playing, enough food to last two months at least, showers, beds, evil clones lurking in vents… Far better then camping in many ways, yes? Not like you have much choice what with the weather outside that has the mayor standing at a window, frowning for most of the day.

No one even notices a drop of water forming on the ceiling. There’s not even a stain or a puddle, just a drop hanging precariously, quivering as someone gets near before it falls, hopefully landing on the unsuspecting person. For a water droplet, it has remarkably good aim.

And then… something happens.

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