antares sighs, in a cell, woo. she pulls out the crumpled classified that got her into this mess.

  single white female seeks distraction from impending 
  self-inflicted doom.  cuties and underdeveloped 
  characters welcome, serious inquiries only. 

a life of crime would have been better, she thinks. at least in a real prison i would have the right to an attorney and that kinda shit. a phone call. hot showers. clean clothes. *sigh*

at the North Texas Muse Festival there is a booth that sells teeshirts with fake bloody handprints all over em and in cruel black slash lettering the words 'i hesitated.'

ok, she ponders, so i traded autonomy for .. what? for someone to make sense of it all, um, no. hmm.

scotto pokes his head around the corner.. look alive hun, cell doors open, prison break, that kinda stuff k'? antares shrugs, gotta take these things on faith.

..

so in a little bit there's a bunch of them hanging around talking plans and someone mentions something being planted by someone who wants scotto out of the story. *ding*

hey, says antares, scotto planted it.

.=.

louise sleeps, and dreams the fitful sleep of someone on the run.

anger fades, anger dies.
somebody cares.

nobody's listening.

.=.

He and She speak in tongues, the storm crashes all around them.

.=.

what do you find when you look in the box?
there is no box.
no, wrong answer. what do you find when you look in the box?
i cannot see inside the box.
when you look inside the box, what do you find?
wait, what do you want me to say?
i want you to tell me what you find when you look in the box.
bandwidth. god, i'm tired.