Anyways, I do believe that the stress of this play is wreaking havoc on my immune system. I hate sore throats. Since you've heard me talk about pancakes (and I'm pretty sure your hungry) and my immune system, here is a poem.
Thin lips tremble,
Quivering.
A small, sweet sound escapes.
The South is really nice
This time of year.
“Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.”― J.R.R. Tolkien
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