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When in the night the moonflowers do wither and rust and molt on the vine, and when the light of the moon fails to reach into the deepest of shadow, that is where you shall find me. When icy spiders run up your spine and you find yourself praying to that God that you’ve until now renounced, know ye, that you have found me. When your mouth is dry as from the swallowing of sand, and the scaly sound of a thousand vipers coiling crackles in your ears, know then that you have found me. When the deadest of autumn leaves ride the night winds and scrape against your door, know ye then that I have found you, for ‘tis always the ill fated winds that bring me to you.
I never say goodbye Ms. Cait, because I never truly leave anywhere. Like a virus I set my hooks and multiply, I am algorithm defiant, presumably somewhere between alpha and omega.
About those donuts, my lovely, you will never know what happened to them.