[She's crying silently as she types this - it's a wonder she's able to manage it without a mistake.]
Only that they haven't found yours.
I squeezed the little machine and it made nonsense letters. I was angry.
[She's not anymore. Maybe a fraction, but it's so buried beneath the tumult of this - of Jon and of the hope that maybe he'll stay, whichever Jon Snow might be.]
no subject
Only that they haven't found yours.
I squeezed the little machine and it made nonsense letters. I was angry.
[She's not anymore. Maybe a fraction, but it's so buried beneath the tumult of this - of Jon and of the hope that maybe he'll stay, whichever Jon Snow might be.]
Where are you? Are you all right?