Locus's room was empty. Bed perfectly made, the single lone computer turned on with it set up for a new log entry, but everything else locus owned, was gone.
Meta made a noise but kissed back before taking his seat with the confounding sticks of wood in hand. He poked at his food, trying to pick it up with the chop sticks and slowly becoming frustrated with the refusal of the foods and the utensils cooperation.











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