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The:
> Look out the window (the on the wall, not the door window). Does everything look the same as before?

Dregadude:
>Look out the window.


Better take a look.



Bina rolls up the blind and real light pours into the room. Bright light. Dawn.

Enough light to make the room feel dim.

Through the window she can see more of the street. "The" misplaced piles of beets are still there, but things are not the same.



It's very early morning. "The" sun is only now breaking between the buildings of the complex.

It's hard to describe, but it doesn't look as… strange and dead as it did before. She can hear the buzzing song of a chickadee out there somewhere. Birds are waking up and letting everyone know about it.

Fuade:
>You sure it isn't the sunset? It looked midday earlier.


Bina thinks it's dawn. It -feels- like dawn. If felt like morning before, when she was outside, and now it feels earlier. "The"re's a sort of smell to it.

Maltor:
I doubt that, considering the behaviour of the birds.


Well that and all the birds freaking out.

Either way, dawn or evening, it makes no sense.

Bina decides to let the sun figure itself out, and sits down on the stool. She's got citrus fruit to deal with.




Kyky25:
>Bina: Bite into the tangerine and tear off the peel with yor teeth. It will taste gross but it's the best way.


Crowstone:
peel it with your TEETH


Bina scoots the stool closer to the desk and realizes that whoever sits in this chair is quite a bit taller than she is. She pulls the handle and the stool wheezes up another few inches. Even so, the desk is still a bit high for her.

She is so sick of being short.

She rests her hurt arm on it anyways. It's started itching at some point, she can't remember when.

She starts trying to pull the skin of the tangerine off with her teeth.



"The" skin tastes bitter and wonderful. God she's thirsty.

Her shoulder starts saying thank you for not having to hold her arm up anymore. "The" rest of her body agrees that this sitting down thing is really super and releases a ton of endorphins. Weee….

Pity Granny didn't give her two scarves, she could have made a sling or something.