(no subject)
Plus ça change, plus c’est la meme chose, right? That's what Walter had said it was, two summers ago--the more things change, the more they stay the same.
It's strange, living with him again. We've got a lot of the same old routines, and he's still him, if less interested in the other people here. It's a bit like we're back in the Gallery again, really, like what it might have been like if I'd stayed--after the rainstorm. After I wasn't afraid anymore, but before he told me he loved me. Some strange place in between.
I'm going to have to tell him more about the last time he was here, sooner or later. If nothing else, it's the only way I'm going to be able to reclaim my vanity. It was in our his room when he came back, and I'd thought the City was enough of a shock without explaining why my dressing table was in his room when there was plenty of space in mine.
Considering how he's been behaving, I don't know if he'll take it well. But the longer I wait...I can't put it off too much more.
How bad is it up there right now? If I go up to work, am I going to be attacked by people demanding to know what I taste like?
...I'm cinnamon flavoured today--sorry to spoil the surprise. But now no one has to try licking my hand while I'm busy. *grin*
