oh for crying: four in the morning

brang braaaang brang braaaaaaang

No, there is no fire, merely the very loud and persistent possibility of fire.

Hooray for living in a building with a cranky AI fire-alarm.

Only three of us went downstairs to the front door. There was me, the artist/short order cook across the hall from Toronto who believes in psychics and doesn’t want the wrong sort of person to see his art, and a girl named Erica, just back from Brazil, who I’ve only just met in spite of the fact she moved in a month before me.

edit: damnit, I think I figured it out., It must have been a daylight savings glitch. Frack.

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