>???

Oh yeah. That was cherubs alright.

Was... was that her?

But how could the other Calliope have left the land of the dead? She looked pretty still-dead to you.

Darn that Muse. Always hiding behind her mysterious question marks and such. You just want to yell out: Calliope! It's me! It's Jane! It's your Jane! I'm here to make it okay. You don't have to run anymore.

But the Muse's whereabouts are, yet again, concealed by an enigma wiggle.

Ugh!

Sigh. Regardless of what the note said, you think getting drunk was such a terrible idea. You've stopped feeling the glow and are starting to feel the icy chill of the booze blues coming on.

No amount of hunks could fill this emptiness. You just wish so badly that there was someone capable of looking at you and saying. Jane. I think your buck teeth and antiquated glasses are the most fucking adorable thing ever. I think that you are charismatic and funny and I think that the special girl is you.

Uuuuuuuugh!!! You hate being drunk! Not only does it send you to weird places you probably don't belong, it makes you so fucking morose about problems you already have!! You just wish...

You just wish there was *someone*, you know...?

...

...

>Someone: Be there.