I’ll be traveling tonight and tomorrow and then again on Sunday and Monday. After thirty days of daily writing I hope my habit stands steadfast. I expect the entries won’t shine among my other gems and they may not get posted timelyly, but I promise they’ll get done and down.
Charming ran Out down Upper East Gang—before The Kink. Past Michael’s engine shop, River Bog (her backup coffee spot)—where Mona already sat playing dominoes with Slippi, Qhinka-tuii’s, and two Blue-n-whites. Upper East Gang before the Kink took her maybe 20 meters out of the way, but she knew how to dodge and when to duck and where to jump. She’d beat the old Lander monk back to her stall with enough time to catch her breath. He’d never suspect her spying.
Lander touri’s stayed out of the Upper of Benhá this early in the morning so Charming only contended with Bennies on the gang. Someone abandoned a hand-truck stacked with red roof panels crossways in the gang; Charming leapt it like a dolphin. A pair of fisherman and their wives pulled a net taut on the far side; she dropped to her knee then shoulder and log-rolled under it while the four jerked the skein up and out of the way. That kinda hurt but Charming felt like a red blood cell coursing through a living body.
Big Rhonda caught her eye and stepped out from her shadowed post, obviously expecting Charming to come to a halt. She didn’t. Never slowing, Charming threw up a not-right-now finger.
The Kink lay ahead.
270 words on day 531