Fate lingered. Socks pulled high.
Circumstance sat in silence.

“Are you well, Dear Sister?”

“…”

“Would you like to —“

“No.”

“Would —“

“No.”

“Why —“

“Because apparently Jaysome IS the context. I don’t know how we fit in there, or anywhere anymore.”

“What? Who told you this?”

”The Context Critters. They came back early. Warned by some sort of Magician…”

“Doesn’t bode well…”

“No.”