Fate's Power Animal
Ensconced meanwhile on all sides up the walls amassed a seismic epic fuckton of cultural memorabilia. Oversized indigenous masks carved from rare redwoods slung up beside deactivated German lugers and grenades of every issue. Microphones, pygmy skulls, framed tattooed pig skins, and shells of bass guitars that looked burnt. Lemmy is the high prince of a really metal tiki bar.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?