(Untitled)

[verypointed]

[The last Thanksgiving dessert pie hasn't even been cleaned out yet, and already something is astir in camp. Small flat boxes are falling from the sky, pounding loudly on cabin rooftops and littering the campgrounds and floating in the duck pond. Upon closer inspection, they're advent calendars, with a little note attached to them: "31 more days

Comments

[misswexler]

[lurking poorly, as though trying to steel herself to approach him]

[misswexler]

Okay. [she takes in a deep, steadying breath and looks off towards the Mess Hall. the question comes out awkward and childish, wary of reproof or disdain] It really helps?

[ofhisword]

It does.

[misswexler]

Okay.

Thank you. I'm going to... [shuffles her feet restlessly backwards]

[ofhisword]

Adjust to the supplement, stay away from crowded locales, and stay out of the sun.

[misswexler]

[nods]

[ofhisword]

Good.

[misswexler]

[and off she goes]