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This bit follows last week’s, with the omission of one linking sentence that expresses Ellie’s doubts that teenage bridesmaid Harper will come out of her room for anything:
There was a pause, a knock, and the sound of muffled voices.
Viv tucked the receiver into the crook of her shoulder, found her place on the page, and marked phosphorylation.
“OH. EM. GEE!” a voice shrieked into her ear.
“Gah!” Viv hollered, clutching her highlighter to her heart.
“Viv?” Stan called. “You okay?”
“Fine, thanks,” she said, when she could. “Should’ve seen that coming,” she muttered, pulling the still-squealing receiver up by its cord.
As of the early Saturday scheduling of this post, all signs are pointing to a major migraine, which tend to affect my sight.
It’s hard to see and type (and brain) through all the sparklies and the tunnel vision. And, you know, the pain—so I’m sorry if I’m late getting to everyone’s posts. Or if I make no sense once I do.
Thank heavens Monday is a holiday here . . .
Image © Justin Smith / Wikimedia Commons, CC-By-SA-3.0. This image was cropped for use in this post.