She mixes her own.

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She mixes her own. She mixes them strong.
The maker's lament.

I remember how good she is with a recipe. She takes the parts she needs, drops the parts she doesn't and improvises with what we have.

This is one of the many things that make her wonderful.

We were laughing only 24 hours ago. We were crying 24 hours before that. This is the season.

Oh, these waning moons of December.
We bear witness to the fullness of shadow's power.