Flycatcher Downs Ring ring, the bartender please?

Oh hai Kae!

Her thoughts were escalating, damned and devilled as she lay amongst the grasses. It was easier than it should've been to lose herself inside her mind but, after all, they do say depression is s slippery slope. "Coarse I'm not fucking dead." Thick and raspy, her voice came out in a hoarse whisper in reply. Too far gone to register that the strange language belonged to the appearance of another being. And frankly, she didn't care. "Mr Racoon, is that you? No, of course not. With the redwoods and the grey stripes you're happily inside my stomach goddamnit." But what did she care. With eyes squeezed tightly shut, anyone would think she might be delirious, waffling garbage to voice her insanity. And they'd be goddamn right.