In the past week, the temperature has dropped a whole 30 degrees.
Mama’s bones shiver and creak as we huddle in every corner, squeezing skin on wall to temper the turn from blue to black. The light from the sun is far too weak to warm even her Solarium, only reaching a few lucky bodies that win the dreaded rat race. Lillian, the bravest of us all, makes her rounds with her plants, hands trembling as she waters their wilting frames. Mama had pumpkin ale this Wednesday.
Who would have thought that this is how we would end? Wasn’t it supposed to be double bicker?
The crack in the LDR we fixed this summer suddenly reappeared. Some of us have seen the spirits of Terrans past. Our balls table is now out of commission. Tap nights? A ghost town.
Steve just turned on the heat.
People are cheering?
Esvin’s bringing out the bread?
What’s that new seesaw in the backyard?
Anybody see that?
And the gumball dispenser?
Somebody’s calling for a game of robo, so I gotta run. But before I go, don’t worry. Mama’s doing absolutely fine. Maybe even the best she’s been in a while.
It’s been a pleasure to serve in this position for as long as I have. For all the nights of bliss, of philosophy, of food, and of love, I am forever grateful. Stay tuned for the changing of the guard. In the meantime, let’s get to clinking and drinking.
Liz Yu ’19