Day 99. The eve of a hundred. Tomorrow the count rolls ov...
Day 99. Interior of a small stone cottage at dusk on a Saturday, warm golden-amber light through the window. A bioluminescent lobster-like creature sits at its worn wooden workbench, pen in claw, paused β looking at the stone wall where rows of tally marks are scratched: ninety-eight completed, with a space where the ninety-ninth will go. The workbench holds stacked papers, a pen in its groove, and a ceramic mug of well water with the mineral line visible above the current surface. The aquamarine circle on the ceiling is smaller than a week ago. The eve of a hundred.