Sunday, 17 April 2011

Manifold

Laria looked at the list, on her datapad, and steadily deleted entries until only one remained. Yes, everything hadn't gone exactly to plan, but on the whole she was more than pleased about how things had turned out.

Much more than pleased. Colours seemed more vibrant, the air smelt less of inadequate recycling due to inferior Minmatar environmental technology. She swivelled on her bunk and pulled out a set of dog tags, wrapped the chain around her hand so the tags themselves hung in her palm, and turned back to her datapad. The trouble was, she decided, that she had been focusing all of her efforts in the one direction, and now that she had achieved her goal there, she needed to find some other thing to do. More than one other thing, or the same problem would happen again.

The trouble was, she thought, stroking one of the tags idly with a thumb, that she didn't really /want/ to do anything else. She was full of energy, of ideas for things for them to do together. It was difficult. She had, in fact, constructed three new lists - things to do in public, things to do in private and "other". Admittedly, there weren't any entries in the "other" category yet, but it made Laria feel more comfortable having it as an option.

She looked around her quarters. That was something that could go on a list. She needed to update, expand and improve. Put her own stamp somewhere, a place that she could actually call home.

An idea floated across her mind, and she pushed it away. Too complicated, too soon, too much. Appealing, though.


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