located in the north part of the soul, where the wind blows away dark thoughts, people sink their feet in the sand, eat lots of chocolate and nobody minds the rain.

how i learned to stop worrying and love the fall

B had a wrinkled post-it.

it had bits of ideas about the confusing fate of czechoslovakian wolves, the surreal fog that sets in the office when no one is paying attention and something about the oscillatory motion between lines of code and an imaginary jungle that results in binary dragons.

B lost the aforementioned post-it before she had the chance to write the actual story.

the end.