a morning of frost and clouds

It's early morning and there's a cloudy dark sky. I can't see the stars this morning.

Last night I traveled to a mountain to find this old man who directed me to a ruined city in a mountain valley. I had undertaken a perilous journey from my home--across a desert and through a jungle until I found the mountains. Then I entered the catacombs of the city, looking for two ancient artifacts lost to the decay of the city. When I went to bed, I had just fended off some viper-like snakes by setting a pile of rags on fire and making it out of the chamber to another passage.

That's right--the world of solo-roleplaying books. Like choose-your-own-adventure books with dice. You know, from the '80s. From when I was a kid.

I just poured a cup of coffee blacker than the foulest midnight. It's been reheated about five times and, as my Gramma says, it's thicker than lye. But it tastes good.