Then I found the other.


Then I found the other. I can write with my feet, did you know that, Dave? Most Tindals can learn, you know, our toes are long enough to grab a pencil. But most don't bother. Most rarely learn to write with their mitts, for that matter; it's much easier to type or dictate. I slipped the slippers over my feet. Now there's a phrase. "Slipped the slippers." Say that ten times fast. Not you, you're an AI. I eased myself out of bed carefully, being sure not to wake Ken; you know how he feels about being woken up. So I checked the fire; it was down to just a few coals, not much else to speak of. Although the sun was out, the forest outside our doublepane window was a pretty winter white. I felt like a princess in a fairy tale, which is just the feeling BackWater is meant to inspire in its guests, even guests of residents like Dick and Susan. I pulled a robe over my shoulders, still surprised by the heavy feel of the wool and the soft texture of the white lace that trimmed it.

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