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Cicada Days
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i can feel something inside me say
[ *  *  *  * ]
A lazy drawl. A vague whisper. A quiet suggestion. Maybe that's what the knock on the door sounded like.

A gunshot.

Daniel hadn't expected Crisanto. The sweaty forty days and nights in the desert version of him. He looked awful, but Daniel couldn't be the judge of that. At some point he'd decided to forgo the bathroom and start rocking the homeless aesthetic himself. And he smelled very much of acrid plant stuff, same as everything else around him. Same as it always smelled.

"Oh. Hey."

Danny vaguely recalled that the image of Tina was still pulled up on his computer, but he wasn't sure how he felt about that being the case.

"I guess you want some of whatever's left of the supply. Help yourself man." Danny's hand did something. Maybe along the lines of 'come in'. It could have just as easily been 'go away'. Fingers fluttered in the cardinal directions, before hanging limp off a sawdust and bone's worth of wrist. It probably all meant nothing. The way Daniel walked back into the room without anything further to add, opened his bedroom and all his worldly possessions to one of the many cousins apparent that he couldn't quite name off the top of his head. A couch melted in a corner, an open box full of crumpled bills and other assorted greens. Daniel returned to his computer, sagged into the old chair with a groan and a creak.

"It's, uh, been a while. Hasn't it."
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Sfumato · V6 Meanwhile...