Wednesday, July 5, 2023

20130705 I can barely remember. I entered a room that I had the impression was a lunch room. Strangers were seated around a few glass tables. I scanned the room, then sat alone at an empty table. I didn't see Spritz in the crowd, but he got up from his seat and whispered in my ear to meet him in the courtyard before he left the room.


I gathered my things and went there. It was dusk, and he was strolling along a poured concrete path, surrounded by tall, tan grasses.

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Cookie and I bought a house in a hot, spacious area with almost red-orange dirt. It looked like Strangerville in The Sims series or a desert in Arizona. It was a small house, but we had many acres of dry land.

Some days later, a WWE truck rolled in. They liked the area too and settled in, building a ring and more on the land.

Cookie and I invited our high school friends to see our new home. They came, including Gingerbread.
We ate dinner outside as the sun set, and incandescent bulbs barely lit our dinner plates. I saw someone creeping up behind Gingerbread as we ate. I thought it was John Constantine, but as he came closer, it was Biscotti. We went to the lounge we built, separate from the house, explaining WWE'S presence.

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