A woman with razor-blonde hair taught me more about integrity than my parents ever did. She wore purple half plate, and championed pride, the eighth virtue. I learned of discipline and stoicism, and pixelated honor, while she and I spent widdershin afternoons in a made-up land. We watched the cranes of La Theine while the rain fell mainly on the plain. We scoured colossal bone towers-- rife with titans-- with religious regularity. And we'd sit and share soft smiles while a stranger ruined dozens of salmon sub sandwiches, one after the other, outside a shop by the rivercreek. We'd sit, proud and alone and happy.
8:44 p.m. - 2016-04-18
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