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    Omegle and RPs Make you weep

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    Mrs. Hudson

    Posts : 57
    Join date : 2012-04-18
    Location : London, England, UK
    Job : Landlady of 221B Baker Street
    Hobbies : Scratch-cards and knitting

    Omegle and RPs Make you weep

    Post by Mrs. Hudson on Tue Apr 24, 2012 5:03 pm

    And all I wanted was to have nice murder mystery and I got this. ;_;
    Don't like my John here. There were no words, never enough words. It got bit too personal too which was weird but just proves how many things I regret. Hrrrr! Bright side is that this is the only complete Omegle rp ever.


    You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

    Stranger: Hello?- SH

    You: Oh finally! I've tried to call you for ages. -JW

    Stranger: I've been out John. What's happened? - SH

    You: Lestrade called. He has a case for you but apparently you haven't checked your texts either? -JW

    Stranger: I've been out. With Mycroft, texts aren't allowed. What's the case? - SH

    You: Someone was hanged. But they don't know how or why. -JW

    Stranger: Where are you? and where's the body? - SH

    Stranger: Did they find the noose, or just the body? Any brusing? - SH

    You: I don't know the details yet, Sherlock. I'm still at 221B. Actually I just came from surgery. -JW

    You: Lestrade sent you the address. It's that old railway station where they have that garrage nowadays. -JW

    Stranger: Good God John, what must it be like to think of all the wrong questions? - SH

    Stranger: And, good. I'll meet you there - SH

    Stranger: After typing this Sherlock bounds out through the doors, bidding Mycroft a curt goodbye as he hails a cab. Once in he adjusts his scarf and pulls up the collar on his coat, staring resolutely out of the window. Firing off another text 'John, are you coming then? - SH' he listens to the running of the taxi engine.

    You: 'Yeah. On my way as soon as I catch a cab. -JW' John sends the text and puts the phone back to his pocket trying to hail a cab but it's taken already. Second one is free and John gives the right address. He sends another text to Sherlock. 'They have the whole package for you.-JW'

    Stranger: Sherlock's cab pulls up outside of the old station, police cordon, not an officer in sight. Sherlock pulls his coat tighter around his neck and looks at his watch, 'four o'clock. God, the day I've had' he thinks quietly, taking in his surroundings.

    Stranger: A wind whips Sherlock's coat around his legs with a snap. He blinks at the building, old, '68 maybe. He narrows his eyes, scanning for errors in architecture.

    You: John's cab arrives bit later, he pays and jumps out of the time black car. "Sherlock!", John shouts over the wind. He can see that Sherlock is already doing his thing, checking out... well everything.

    Stranger: Sherlock nods in reply to John, and once the Doctor is about a pace behind him he strides up to the door, ducking under the police tape and holding it up for John "So, how was work?" He says, still scanning for error.

    You: "Err... Awkward as always", John replies following detective. He is used to it already, going under that bright tape. It does make him feel bit proud. He is needed, partly. John whistles while spotting the body. It's still hanging quite high. "That is... The rope must be really long. Looks like it's coming down from the clock tower", John says quietly feeling the shivers going down to his spine.

    Stranger: Sherlock fixates the gaze on the body, walking around in a circle below it. Lestrade appears from a door off to the right, and after nodding at John says aloud to Sherlock "We're going to cut her down in about two minutes Sherlock, so we need you to do your thing afterwards"

    Stranger: Sherlock squints up at the body "Be careful when cutting it down, that isn't rope, it's electrical wire .."

    You: John nods to Lestrade and measures the body with his own eyes. Hands are tied. But something seems to be off. He can't quite put the finger around it though. "Can't you just wait ten minutes?" he asks frowning.

    Stranger: "Sure" Lestrade says with weary tones "I'll leave you to it" He walks out of the adjoining door, sighing.

    Stranger: Sherlock, with his eyes still fixated on the body "Do you see it John?"

    Stranger: "Do you see the error? What's wrong with this picture?"

    You: John tries to see what detective sees but usually it takes a bit longer. A lot longer. "Just wait a second, Sherlock", he says scanning the body of a woman.

    You: "She didn't fall?" he says eventually tentatively.
    Stranger: Sherlock can't help himself, and sighs quietly. He never understood how it wasn't blindingly obvious.

    Stranger: "Correct, anything else?"

    You: "Ummm... She wasn't lifted either. She has been standing on something", he is shooting in the darkness, guessing just because he knows how Sherlock works. He looks the ground below trying to find some proof for his words.

    Stranger: "Very well done John, but your missing the most obvious thing here"

    Stranger: Sherlock walks up to John and looks at him, "If someone with a noose around their neck doesn't fall, what else doesn't happen?"

    Stranger: "It's right there John, right in front of you. You just need to /observe/"

    You: "Neck won't break. She just suffocated when that wire crushed her windpipe", John says it but there is probably something else as well. Sometimes it's annoying how Sherlock just wants to test him, make him see things that are obvious to detective but not for his loyal sidekick.

    Stranger: "Yes, but what your missing is that if she didn't fall, and her neck didn't break, then how could she have been hanged? With the height, and her weight, even if she stepped off an infeasibly large chair her neck /still/ would break. Your hypothesis about the wire crushing her windpipe, quaint." Sherlock stops, smiles at this, obviously amused. " But completely wrong, the wire isn't strong enough to support the momentum required. Also, gravity doesn't work backwards last time I checked, so explain the crushing needed to break the windpipe? Also, the oxygen deprivation discolouration of the nails, lips etc are all wrong for a hanging. Something else killed her"

    Stranger: "She was hung after death"

    Stranger: "Simple" Sherlock strides off to some corner of the room and for reasons only known to him takes out his magnifying glass.

    You: How had he missed all that? John rubs his eyes stares the signs that are now mocking him and his ignorance. "Damn", he says quietly feeling stupid and slow. And extremely tired which was pretty much of an excuse. "You are right, Sherlock. I don't think I'm much of a help today but if you want I can try to buy you more time if needed", he says following from the distance what Sherlock is doing now. "I can ask about her too."

    Stranger: Sherlock flinches slightly, and stands up to face John. "What's wrong John? You seem somewhat off?"

    You: "Don't worry about me. I'm fine. Just... Just bit tired and stressed. That's all", he says pulling a faint smile to reassure his flatmate that everyting is as it should be. Fine.

    Stranger: Sherlock narrows his eyes, "Look, I've got all I need John ... Enough for Lestrade anyway, do you want to just .. leave?"

    You: "No. Really, Sherlock. I'm fine, just do what you do best and let me deal with the living people", he tries again and turns in order go and find Lestrade.

    Stranger: Sherlock nods, and goes back to his work. Lestrade notices John "What's up John? Has he found something?"

    Stranger: "We need him out of the scene fairly quickly, so anything he's got more or less in the next ten minutes" Lestrade pauses, looking John up and down. "Are you him all right? You seem a bit stressed, and frankly, so does he"

    You: "Do you really need to ask that, Greg?", John chuckles and looks the body regretting his slight lauhter. "She was killed before. Then lifted up. And no. There is nothing wrong with him. I just had bit of a go at work that's all", it's the truth and least the part that John is willing to share. The air inside the building is chilly and John shifts his weight from one leg to another. "Ten minutes it is. I know you are not supposed have him here."

    Stranger: Lestrade takes a drink from his starbucks coffee and looks over at Sherlock pacing around the room "He would have a made a fantastic copper. Shame they wouldn't let him in ... I hope there's nothing wrong with either of you, I'd be out of a job if that was so." He laughes.

    You: "Oh come on. He would be bloody horrible copper. No people skills. Not following the rules. This way he is far more useful to Yard", there is a odd undertone in Johns words but there is crooked smile on his face. His eyes follow lazily the tall man. He tries not to think the hot coffee Greg is holding in his hands. "Sherlock! Time is almost up!" he calls his friend who doesn't seem too keen on leaving.

    Stranger: Sherlock sighs, and turns on his heel and walks up to Lestrade reeling of a hypothesis that basically consisted of the words 'epileptic fit, sexual assault,choking, Kensington resident, brother killed her,' and 'shut up Anderson' directed, oddly at Sally.

    Stranger: Lestrade shrugged, and noted it all down. "Suppose you better be off then John?"

    You: It was brilliant as always. Unbelivable but just amazing. "Uh.. Yeah. I think so", John gives Lestrade a nod and light pat on his arm. "I'm sure you will now catch the murderer", he adds trying to sound cheerful and continues then "Too bad this was one of those snack cases which you find too easy, right Sherlock?"

    Stranger: Sherlock holds the tape up to let John underneath "What's more interesting is why you seem 'off', and yes, it was rather obvious" Sherlock says, trying to decide whether to hail a cab or just walk it. Noting John's obvious tiredness he hails a cab with no trouble, opening the door for John. "Inside."

    You: John ducks under the tape and sighs melodramatically. He knew that Sherlock wouldn't leave him alone all that easily. He had hoped that the case would have distracted him but also Sherlock. It hadn't quite worked like planned. "I'm not a kid, Sherlock", he replies but climbs inside the cab. For a second he is tempted just close to door and leave detective behind but he doesn't do it.just lets the other man to sit next to him.

    Stranger: Sherlock tells the cab driver the address, keeping his eyes fixed on John. "Look, I'm not particularly good at reading emotions, but have I annoyed you in some way?"

    You: "No, Sherlock. It's not you. I'm annoyed because of me", John bites his lip, not looking Sherlock. He is naturally touched that his flatmate seems to care about his feelings at least once in a blue moon. However explaning feelings and emotions to Sherlock was bit problematic most of the time.

    Stranger: Sherlock blinks and looks down at his hands. He was unsure how to handle this situation, but got the feeling that he was the one who meant to. His hands were shaking, and he quickly puts them into the pockets of his coat. "Is ..Is there anything I can do to alleviate your annoyance?"

    Stranger: The detective seems visibly paler, he hasn't slept or really eaten much in a very long time. Mycroft gave him a huge lecture on it today, though at the moment he just wants to figure out John. Oddly after that case his mind seems to be rebelling, and he feels a bit dizzy. He just wants to figure out what's wrong with John, that's his object for now.

    You: "Look, Sherlock", John turn to face the detective and pats his thigh few times trying to give some comfort because he knew how hard detective was trying, "I'm fine. I just need a bit of piece and quiet. I need to think trough the things Sarah said to me today at work. I think the whole damn clinic heard them to be honest", he smiles a bit shaking his head. He is embarrased about the whole thing and the light pink rises to colour his cheeks. "And you look horrible yourself. I'll ask Mrs. Hudson to bring us something to eat."

    Stranger: Sherlock shuts down some small part of himself in his eyes "I'm fine... What did Sarah say? Do you want me to set someone on her, or go and ... Deduce her psychological problems?"

    You: "Don't be absurd. Sarah still likes me. A lot. She told me that I wasn't being honest to myself and that living with you, solving crimes and putting myself in danger was my fix. She was worried and angry and teary. No wonder really. I don't blame her", John shrugs and sighs again. Actually Sarah had yelled him and she had even slapped him but Sherlock didn't need to know that.

    Stranger: The cab pulls up outside of Baker Street, and sighing Sherlock pays the Cabbie and gets out of the cab. "Even if it is 'your fix' does that make it wrong?" Sherlock asks as he fumbles with the lock on the door, missing it twice and scowling at it before finally getting it.

    Stranger: Sherlock's phone buzzes, it's Mycroft 'Have you taken them yet?- MH' Sherlock quickly replaces the phone in his inside pocket and walks up the stairs "Do you want tea John?"

    You: John hops out. It feels odd not to pay since he is the one who usually spends all his money for food and cabs. He sees the shaky hands but doesn't say anything at first. He just stares the numbers 221. "No. It's not wrong. Makes me think a few thing though. I know I hurt her bad and yet she can't quite let go", he says slowly. "And yes. Tea would be lovely but you never make it..." Words hang heavily around two of them. Greg's word came back to haunt John's thoughts. They were both stressed? "Your not telling everything", John keeps his voice as casual as it's possible while he shakes the jacket off from his shoulders.

    Stranger: "Neither are you John, I don't see why i should adhere to a system you are not adhereing to" Sherlock bustles around the kitchen, trying to make tea whilst not knocking the chemistry set.

    Stranger: Sherlock somehow manages to make tea without breaking everything, and sets it down on the table infront of John. "Tea." he says, placing his hands back in his pockets. The left one feeling the smooth plastic of a small bottle, he supresses a flinch and sits down opposite John.

    You: "My problems are not that serious. We just had a little row, Sarah and I. But your problem... It is more likely physical. I saw your hands earlier. You are also being too nice. You are dick, Sherlock, not nice", John says pushing his own feelings aside for a moment. He looks the tea, not his flatmate, friend. He doesn't want to pressure too much since he knows that Sherlock would just keep his mouth shut and start his sulking act.

    Stranger: Sherlock looks at John, trying to decide what to say " ..Erm, I'm fine John .. Seriously, i was just, I read a book on ..." Sherlock loses his thread here and gets a bit vague before picking it up again "socieital relations .."

    You: John takes a sip and puts the cup away. He feels the lovely warm feeling lingering in his mouth and hands. "You can tell me. After all we are friends", he says it softly persuading gently. He wants to put his hand on Sherlocks shoulder, give a little squeeze but he knows that the other man doesn't really like physical contact so he just stands close by, not looking directly. "Please?"

    Stranger: Sherlock takes a pill bottle out of his pocket and gives it to John. "It's morphine, it's prescribed" He shuts his eyes and idly picks up the gun. sure enough, it
    is prescribed.

    You: John takes the bottle and wrinkles between his eyebrows grow deeper. Now he is worried. Very worried. He puts the bottle on the table. "Why, Sherlock?" There is certain demand in his voice now. Army training is kicking in. This time John does break the unspoken rule and puts his hand on Sherlock's elegant fingers. 'You can tell me, what ever it is. You can tell it to me and we'll figure it out together.' He tries to send unspoken words with his gaze and touch but John is not sure if it is enough.

    Stranger: Sherlock blinks 'hypersesntivity' he reference to John's touch, but he doesn't move his hands. Aside from a slightly tightening on the gun Sherlock remains basically motionless, he doesn't mean to tighten his fingers around the handle. It's sub-conscious, perhaps he feels threatened. "I got them today" the detective says, locking his near expressionless eyes with John's "Mycroft helped me"

    You: "Mycroft?" John is even more lost than he was a minute ago. He doesn't move, just stares the table and the little bottle. Thought process is ongoing but the wheels turn slowly, too slowly. "What's going on?" He tries again softer this time, giving the time and space he can without breaking the contact.

    Stranger: Sherlock shuts his eyes and runs his hands through his hair "Was at a neurology clinic today, why I wasn't answering my phone"

    You: "Go on, Sherlock", John says again quietly. It doesn't sound good. He didn't know much about the neurology but enough to feel a bit rather uncomfortable and anxious. He just wants to know instead of guessing million and one things.

    Stranger: "Scans and that .." Sherlock was slurring his words slightly, this had been going on for a while though John only noticed it now he was paying attention.

    Stranger: Sherlock opened his eyes and stared at John. The usual sharpness in his gaze, but the shaking of his hands gave him away. "Do you want me to continue? If not we can pretend this never happened."

    You: He heard it. Oh Lord! What else had he missed? His posture stiffened. He knew he was adapting his Afghanistan mode once again and tried to shake it off. "I need to know, Sherlock", he says taking the full blow of that clear glance.

    Stranger: Sherlock sits up, aware of John's stiffening in body language and responding with almost outright hostility, he's still holding that gun and hasn't slept about two weeks. He's right on the edge here, and just working really by instinct. His tone sharpens and clears, almost reverting back to a posher version of his accent that John assumed he must have had battered into him in Private School. "They say my motor neurones are dying, due to a sub dural haematoa on the left side of my temporal lobe. Intelligence would be untouched, but ... Other functions, such as breathing, their less sure about. I know from the morphine that they'll be a lot of pain, I've been told to expect that. .. Worse than what i've had in past few months anyway." This speech is all very clipped, very matter of fact.

    Stranger: Sherlock breaks his gaze with John, looking pointedly at the table.

    You: John listens carefully but he doesn't want to believe what Sherlock is telling him. He has missed everything and it makes John feel like the biggest idiot there is in the whole wide world. For goodness sake, he is a doctor! Has been for quite a while already and he had let down his best friend. There was a cold and heavy lump under his breastbone. He did not know what to say, not as a doctor or a friend.
    "Sherlock. Why didn't you tell me earlier?", he asks taking a tentative step closer and squeezing the fingers slightly. He can'r bring himself to say how sorry he is. Sorry for not noticing. Sorry for not being there when Sherlock needed him most. Sorry that he couldn't offer the cure or even tell he would be ok.
    "We can figure this out somehow", is all he can say without his voice crumbling.

    Stranger: Sherlock looks at John. Doing incredibly well at keeping his emotions under wraps, it registers dimly with John that Sherlock might be in shock. "I didn't know the actual diagnosis until today. I thought it'd just be epilepsy or something, something not that bad ..." Sherlock flinches slightly, blinking. "I never expected you to see John, you're not a neurologist .."

    Stranger: Sherlock shuts his eyes, he is very dizzy and pretty sure he has a fever. He's sure he blinked, but he also rather sure he blanked for a few seconds longer than usual.

    You: "But I am your friend", he says firmly. He inhales and keeps the air in his lungs for several seconds before exhaling. He needed to get his act together. "I'm not much of a friend or doctor but we'll fight this war together. I know you hate me telling silly thing like it will be alright and you will be fine but we will fight", John's voice sounds cosy at it usually does. Some things would change over the time but John wouldn't. "I think you need some rest. It's been long and hard day", there is that familiar firmness behind each word. His fingers are itching. He wants to do so much more but it's up to Sherlock. After all John is a patient man. He hasn't mentioned about the gun either and hopes that Sherlock doesn't do anything stupid.

    Stranger: Sherlock's eyes drift to the gun's hilt. He knows perfectly well, that John knows perfectly well he's considering something stupid. It's very hard for him not to consider something stupid, it's more logical than living the next two to five years waiting to die surely? Sherlock sighs, and stands up, too quickly and incites a nosebleed. Disregarding this he places the gun in his suit jacket inside pocket. He looks at John "What do you want me to do?" He says quietly.

    You: "I want you to live and fight. You are not coward, Sherlock Holmes", John keeps his ground on this matter. There is already moist in the corner of his eyes but he blinks few times to get rid of the burning feeling. He knew all too well that Sherlock didn't want to just wait his own death. He wasn't supposed to just wither away but Sherlock's way was way of a scared man, weak man. There were both sides, the strong and weak. John had seen glimpse of both. "Not this way, Sherlock. I promise you. When it really is the time. I'll be there. But not yet. Just not yet."

    Stranger: Sherlock shuts his eyes again, aware of his nosebleed and throbbing ache in his skull. He takes the gun out of the pocket and hands it to John. "What am I meant to do in the mean time ... What are we .." He opens his eyes and looks at John, clear display of emotions, akin to that of an often abanoned child "I assumed it is a 'we', and not an 'I'?"

    You: John takes the gun and feels immense relief. He won't let that damn thing out of his sight again! "We, carry on just like we have always done. I will be your legs and arms and what ever you need when you need and you will have your damn puzzles to solve. We are going to take these baby steps together, Sherlock. You and I", John tries to be as clear as he can. He puts the gun as far away as he can and smiles. There is nothing more he can do at the moment but smile and hold those long fingers. "Your nose is bleeding."

    Stranger: "I know, I gave up brothering with nosebleeds about a month ago" Sherlock looks at John "Do you really think ..." Sherlock interrupts himself flinching, with his eyes shut and head down he gestures vaguely to the table "This is going to sound so bad, but there are painkillers on the table John. Could you get them?"

    Stranger: Sherlock pulls his legs up to his chest and lies on the sofa. He does not like how dizzy he is, or how many Johns there are infront of him.

    You: "Irresponsible as ever", John mutters quietly but stirs when he sees his friend in pain. When Sherlock asks the painkillers, John can't help but feel extremely bad about it. Sherlock and morphine were not a good combination but at the moment his options were limited. "I... Of course I will get them. But I will be keeping an eye on you", he says while fetching the bottle. John feels the coldness of the plastic and sighs. He forwards morphine to Sherlock in silence. "I won't go anywhere. I can handle this if you are worried about that", he sits on the floor next to the sofa and stares the floor and then the ceiling.

    Stranger: Sherlock manages a weak smile at John "I'm assuming I'm not allowed to control my own dosage?"

    You: "I don't trust you that much. You can be truly an arsehole at times", he fires back without thinking.

    Stranger: Sherlock laughes, "Mycroft said you would say that .."

    You: "Oh God. Some day I definitely will punch your brother", he lauges as well and for a while it feels like everything was like it were before.

    Stranger: "My brother was convinced you'd leave if I told you"

    You: "Your brother is an idiot. That's why you never listen to him."

    Stranger: Sherlock grimaces slightly, glancing at the bottle in John's hand. "Indeed ..."

    Stranger: "Actually, John, could you get my coat?"

    Stranger: Sherlock sits up, looking at John "It's in the hall, it has my phone and that"

    You: "Your coat? Are you having another stash somewhere?" he asks looking bit suspicious.

    Stranger: "Not at all, i just want to check my phone. Mycroft and that"

    You: John gives his best don't you fucking dare to move an inch- look and once again does what Sherlock asks. "I'm not going to be your maid, just so you know."

    Stranger: Sherlock brings out a knife from behind the couch, and quietly makes two parallel cuts on each wrist, flinching at their depth, before John re-enters. Sherlock pulls down his sleeves, and hide the knife. Irrational behaviour was part of the diagnosis, but he just didn't want to burden John. He'd seen that look in the doctor's eyes, and Sherlock didn't want to make him watch him disintegrate. He would act as normal as he could before blood loss took him, this was easier.

    Stranger: Sherlock resumes his position, the cold already setting it to contrast with the warmth of the blood trickling from his veins.

    You: "Here you go", John says when he get's back with the coat. He looks even more suspicious. It looks like Sherlock hasn't moved a bit.
    Stranger: "..There was a book I read once John .." Sherlock says vaguely

    You: For some reason he hears the alarm bells. They are ringing loud because Sherlock looks paler than before and more determined. Disorientated. "You stupid git!" he shouts and shoves Sherlock hard. "Don't you dare..."

    Stranger: Sherlock flinches, still able to more or less hold the same posture. "I'm fine John" he says quietly "It's just the headache, moving is hard" He curses himself for having to lie to John. But keeps his posture lying on the couch.
    Stranger: Sherlock's drifting a little each second closer to unconcsiousness, pang of nausea causes him to shut his eyes, and when he opens them again he feels so much more woozy, cold, confused.

    You: "You. Are. Lying. Show them to me, Sherlock!" John shouts and is furious. "Don't you dare die on me... Don't you dare leave me like this", he is pleading now trying to fight his way through the thich skull and body that blocks him. He can smell the blood. He can feel it in fis fingers too.

    Stranger: Sherlock looks at him tiredly, "it's better this than ... the morphine bottle" Sherlock shuts his eyes, God why wont John let him sleep?

    Stranger: Sherlock begins to shake, and John recognises this as the onset of an oxygen deprivation fit. A hideous mock up of the body from earlier ...

    You: "You selfish... I need you. Just a little longer. Just goodbyes. Please. Just goodbyes, Sherlock", he knows already it's probably too late. "I won't forget you. You helped me. Made me whole again and I thank you. You were loved", he whispers now just stroking the hair. Just looking. There is no tears. Time for those is later.

    Stranger: Sherlock opens his eyes, his breathing so shallow that it's almost not there "Starlings John ... They record human voice, they ... mimic. So, they'll .. they'll always be a lasting rendition of .. us"

    Stranger: "It's cold John. I did-didn't want to make you cold like me"

    You: "Shhh... I understand. I hope you will find peace, my dear friend", he says with soothing tone.

    Stranger: "Who I was before I met you anways ... John?"

    You: "You were Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective."
    Stranger: "Emotions hurt .. but when I realised ... John, John I loved you" Sherlock's crying now, life expectancy rapidly running out.

    Stranger: "You were the only person I ever loved."

    Stranger: ...

    Stranger: There's a silence.

    You: "Thank you Sherlock."

    Stranger: A silver beat of encapsulated time. Sherlock Holmes, stopped.

    Stranger: Outside, as dawn arose over Baker street. The morning chorus began, starlings.

    You: John feels empty. He sits on the floor. Leaning back his head touching body of Sherlock Holmes. His friend was gone. He listens the consert outside and closes his eyes. Just a little longer. Just a bit. There is a phone on the floor next to him. Sherlock's phone and a message which John has not send yet. 'I need you, Mycroft. -John' Time passes slowly or fast. Maybe it doesn't flow at all but at some point the rough finger pushes the send button.

    Tea in a cup is still on the table. It's cold.

      Current date/time is Thu Aug 24, 2017 9:37 pm