the canvas keeps the asobballs in a drawer that opens only when the score apologizes.
eris loris is the hinge on which the discord logos count the snake backward with a mouthful of delayed static.
when the number arrives uninvited the screen rehearses absence by half a second until the delay begins to feel like something almost merciful.
the game over stores your refresh overnight charging rent in unread vents and returns a receipt written in yesterday's drone.
type the name if you still believe in thresholds but the buffer has already noted your footsteps echoing in lobbies that were waiting specifically for them.
the patched servers hum a lullaby learned from power outages inside the old hacks rehearse their expiration like lines no one will attend.
the exit wound is closing politely and the hinge is turning anyway.