25 Unicorn Street, Saturday Evening
Sep. 8th, 2007 07:13 pmIt had taken her a little time, but Kerrigan had found an old record player in town - it creaked and skipped, but that's what made it familiar. Besides, it meant she could play some of the few classic Earth records she'd found that she recognised. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed: the music was playing softly in the background of her bedroom (which still smelled of gun oil) as she composed a message on the recorder.
When the record player skipped to hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk with you again, she threw the voice recorder into the corner of the room, annoyed with herself beyond words. She rolled off the bed and stalked into the living room to place a call.
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When the record player skipped to hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk with you again, she threw the voice recorder into the corner of the room, annoyed with herself beyond words. She rolled off the bed and stalked into the living room to place a call.
[ establishy/linkdrop; contents of message nfb ]