Broken Boulder buried yourself alive and expected to be fine

if brilliance knew what queenie wanted her to do, she’d laugh. sleep? ha! never! of course, she doesn’t, and she can’t help but feel the tired behind her eyes. the corners of her eyes remain the only entry, barely open (to open more and more over the next day or two), turns a little to try and find the light again. queenie shades over her, blocking anything for her to enjoy and as a stubborn child would, barks several times—arf, arf, arf!—and flail of her little puppy legs to squirm away.