I regret to inform you that I am away from my desk this upcoming week.
I am traveling. Exploring. Scavenging. Blazing a trail through the streets of Manhattan. I am that tiny girl with braces and a camera that looks thirteen but speaks old language phrases like “shall” and “thusly”. Except, there’s the incessant horns, sirens, and winds, which means I’m shouting every word—but really, that’s not new.
I am in New York.
After so much time spent with one human—exclusively—a line is crossed.
___________________ ←←← Here is a depiction of the line you cross. Visuals are helpful.
This line determines best-friendship. The type of friendship that has no boundaries, no secrets. The type of friendship that is poop comfortably at their house friendship. The type of friendship that means the family dog doesn’t even bark when you enter the backdoor (or from a window).
Do you think you and your best friend are… there? Let’s see.
I’ve been naughty. Quite naughty. Cheeky even.
I’ve been bad.
*insert a visual of Rebekah drawing her pinky up to the corner of her mouth. Mischievous grin*
Lately, I’ve eaten—quite frankly—everything. I’ve eaten everything. Sofa cushions. Golf balls. Hand soap… Let’s just say, don’t look for Fluffy, because Fluffy ain’t there. Fluffy went for The Long Walk.
*spits out a mouthful of fur and dabs her lip with an elegant silk napkin*
I’m surprised the house is still standing, to be honest. Those supporting beams have been looking mighty tasty.