(no subject)

[synanthrope]

I turned 27 three days ago. Usually Socrates reminds me - I get distracted and I don't realize my birthday is passing. This year it was cars and curses. I've been repairing the body and engine of an off-roading vehicle, and the smell of the blood in the backseat the work has been engrossing. He gave me a pair of seashell earrings last year, ones he found and harvested himself. They were pale and made of the Glory of the Sea.

The odd thing is that I'm fairly sure I've turned 27 here before, but that was years ago. So am I in my thirties, now? I suppose it doesn't matter. I'll calculate the numbers. I'm 27.

There's a cake. I think it's chocolate.

Comments

[synanthrope]

It's fine. I don't eat chocolate.

[coyote-walking.livejournal.com]

Oh. Sorry.

[synanthrope]

You didn't offend me.

[coyote-walking.livejournal.com]

Okay then.

Anything in particular you want me working on today?

[synanthrope]

The off-roader needs some body work.

[coyote-walking.livejournal.com]

I can do that.

The engine seems okay?

[synanthrope]

I'll manage the engine.

[coyote-walking.livejournal.com]

Okay.

I'd rather work on the outside anyway. The inside... smells like blood.