“If C.D. ever gets out of that whitewashed village over there, we’re *all* in trouble.”
“So I’ve heard, Messed Up,” responded Kind Of Messed Up 02 across from her, also staring at it from the Messed Up Cafe. *Her* cafe (oh).
She turned toward her cat again, her tenuous tether to the world of sanity created before the day of last Wednesday’s Monday. “Game of chesskers while we wait?” she bubbled.
Knowing there was no such game (tether!), Kind Of went in back to retrieve the board and pieces.
—–
On his way back, he paused to stare at the picture again, a thing he’d done a thousand times now. “The Man Upstairs had such great plans for this place,” he said once more, a ritual litany.
Sunklands 