| 2:38a |
[a sour looking teenager with long red hair and an odd off-white uniform marked with an unbalanced yang symbol and a purple butt-ribbon rope tied around her waist trudges in.
Once she stopped, she folded her arms and lifted her head to speak, addressing no one in particular.]
... 'Kay.
What the hell kinda sucky afterlife is this?
At least I've got my flute. Oh, and I'm not half-crushed. Yeah, that too.
Still, I was kind of expecting something more dramatic, you know? |