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The Drunkard And The Alien Quest - 2nd Drink

!!S7iWoz56vJi ID:94xwMudN No.5348054 View ViewReplyOriginalReport
You offered no response to Mary’s praise of that rotten apple.

You nodded your head to the wardrobe on the further side wall to motion for Cass to see and come close. You opened wide the large hinged doors, tall mirrors mounted inside each one reflected your shape and curled Cass’s already unbalanced jellied form. Cass pushed her hands on top of the surface of the mirror right of you—the glass trembled under the pressure she forced. Her lips trembled still, and then opened; her reflection did the same. She turned her neck—her entire head—to stare at the other mirror. She looked back and forward at least a dozen times. One of her eyes sunk and reformed on the back of her head as if that was a solution. Her fingers began to soften.

You ducked to fit through the gap left, reaching out for Mary’s hung clothes. Everything in the room was still in overseeing darkness, one demanding you to return to sleep, and the depressive haze of the wardrobe made it impossible to tell the outfits apart. You picked the first dresses and skirts you could find without discrimination, sight, and sense of fashion. Cass showed no response to your call out. You swallowed your spit, tossing the fabrics on top of her. She dragged her fingers from the mirror to the clothes, pushing them off her face and to her chest to dangle off her condensed arms. You patted your clothes first and then pointed your hands at hers.