November 9--Egypt, Mummy Mask. Raoul smoothed his hands over the wet plaster and linen. "So smooth," he crooned, "so cool. You'll be glad you let me do this, you will." Her eyes swam with tears, silently pleading with him to stop, to let her go. Her eyes were the only part of her still visible. He liked to keep them uncovered so that no matter how he sculpted the plaster around them their true self shone out. He selected each one carefully, considering all of the ones that displayed themselves to him walking by his shop. He was very particular, rejecting those not quite right. This one had the graceful hands he was seeking so he took special care wrapping and arranging them as the plaster dried. This one was especially good. She had fought to stay alive much longer than most. Her spark burned bright right up until the instant it went out forever.
I'm hungry so I'm off to maybe cook up a bowl of oatmeal with a few dried cherries in it. You're sorry you're not here for a share, I know you are. Have a good day.