Flying into the blazing flames, De began to shriek in agony, and the smell of burning flesh spread through the room. It slid off her, exposing facial bones already broken in three places, while the tongue, for some reason, had survived so far.
It writhed and proclaimed:
— Here it is! The climax! How wonderful this is!
Ka, being Hands, possessed no cognitive function. And so they simply followed De and now burned alive just as vilely alongside her.
What happened to Me, if it was immobile? Ron, identifying themselves as Feet, jumped onto the seat and knocked the torso down. Very easily. Clearly well-trained.
Then, with short kicks, they managed to shove the torso into the merciless fireplace, which was at the peak of bliss from this party.
They themselves did not follow.
Perplexed, they bowed to I and You, after which they began dancing tap and an even more ancient shuffle. Then came the gavotte and other styles that Ron recognized directly in motion.
Tossing the Feet a couple of coins they found near the table, I and You thanked Ron for the performance. And understood. It was time to leave. An exit is sometimes more interesting than an entrance. Because it does not sever everything, but allows a flow into a new position without harm to oneself.
The long, billowing curtains agreed and decided to change their habitual route of swaying in the wind. Grabbing the window frames, they tore them loose, and the frames obediently soared into the air, gliding smoothly.
— An invitation? Shall we join?
Without even turning around, You supported the initiative, and they raced toward their horse-drawn carriage. The frames easily withstood their absent weight, when outside the room the embodied organisms once again became bodiless Thoughts.
Those are easier to carry.
That’s what the curtains thought, waving goodbye. The windows nodded and agreed.
“In this form it’s simpler. In it you can hug clouds,” shared the First Thought, once I. She couldn’t embrace the clouds because of their absence, and the Second Thought was in no hurry to help her find them.
She was supposed now, as it seemed, to slide along the window glass and stick to it as frost, while the little window rushed through the city. A snowflake here, a trompe-l’œil of pineapple juice spilled and imprinted on the surface there. The Second Thought did not plan any of this, and therefore the works came out on their own. Sincere.
The transport began to descend and plunged downward at the speed only old window turnstiles are capable of — those that did not succumb to the trends of novelty. They preserved a former fervor that ordinary double-glazed windows lacked.
Like two blades, they scooped the air and almost on the fly crashed down onto a peacefully moving bus. It had no choice but to realize: its half, formerly the frame and roof, would now be cut off.
And so it happened.
The windows became much sharper and angrier and were able to sever the unnecessary part, seating their riders directly into the passenger seats. Seatbelts had already snapped shut on the appearing bodies, and the Thoughts once again became I and You.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.