M.O.S.A.I.C Day 2
I blink, not sure if I just crashed during the day and decided to nap with Daji--or more importantly, encouraged her to nap with me.
I'm lying on a Victorian brass bed with a floral-patterned bedspread beneath me. I lift my hand and it looks a bit paler, like Plaster of Paris. Have I not been getting enough sunshine? Maybe Apollo might agree to be my own personal sunlamp.
My clothes look like kid's clothes. My khakis and green shirt definitely appear to have shrunk. And what about the bed?
Daji groans beside me, and so does Tina. Before we took this little snooze, she had bent our ears about problems in one of the breakout hotel rooms. The projector seemed to be on the blink. The attendees were complaining about it.
"Did I catch some Zs?" Tina asked.
Daji leans on the brass bed frame for support and stands up. "I don't remember our suite ceiling being this low," she grumbled. "And when did we get a brass bed? This doesn't look like our bedding either."
