[She won't know; she can't, perhaps ever, Alia thinks, envying for a minute how easily Paul invokes Jessica. He hasn't learned yet how to hold her at arm's length, how to see that's where he's always been, at the end of an arm, curled into a fist.]
Cinnamon rolls before. Those don't count as breakfast.
no subject
Cinnamon rolls before. Those don't count as breakfast.
No shields here. You scared?