Re: quicklog: gwen/flash
If you've been close enough to a raccoon's mouth to have a scent memory of his halitosis, then we have bigger problems than previously noted. [Gwen had dropped the blood-stain hoodie that had become home in the corner of her attic hidey-hole, and she was a tank top and jeans, and a borrowed blanket from a dusty box to fend off the early Fall chill beneath the old wood slats.
She smiled at the game, and she took the box from him when he came close enough, and she began setting the game out and altering the area of play to accommodate a few missing pieces. Her fingers shook, but she couldn't reason them into being still.] My dad and I would play board games every Sunday when I was little.