Ted (merovingian) wrote,
Ted
merovingian

The wind on top of that rock blew cold and colder, and I could hardly feel anything but my hands fading away to numbness.

"Stupid wind," I muttered to myself in complaint.

"I know," said the wind, miserably, "I wish I were smarter."

Awkward! I don't expect my moments of whiny apostrophe to be met with elemental self-loathing, but we do what we can. So I've started working with the wind on broadening its mind. We go to lectures and libraries, operas and museums, memory-building seminars and academic decathalons.

Which is great for the wind, but people get sick of me arriving and making them all feel so cold and numb.
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