[UNMODERATED] [CRITERIA: Max 2 Player Characters (due to size constraints), 6 Replies to Complete]
A feeling of mortification pervades this tiny pantry and the memory owner looks everywhere but their smooch partner, whose lips are overly puckered and glistening wet in the single, swinging overhead pantry light. It's even more dramatic with everything black and white like it is. Oh, seven minutes in heaven is always a mistake.
The memory owner takes inventory of the pantry as they lean away from their kissing partner. The walls are well stocked with real apples and waxy oranges, pears that are just a little too big, cherries in colors that cherries shouldn't come in sit in neat little piles just below boxes and boxes and boxes and boxes (and boxes and boxes, stretching up so many shelves) of colorful marshmallow cereals. That one has a clown on the front, this one features Pocket. There's one with a pirate that looks like Bruno Ellerby, advertising authentic pizza flavor. There's another that just says "DOGS" on the front in black impact font. On the opposite wall from all that are the pyramids. Literal pyramids, of all different sizes. A cardboard cut out of a whole cow leans against one wall, and the memory owner is pretty sure that bovine face is taunting them. There's a string of garlic hanging from the ceiling, and the memory owner is pretty sure they can smell it. Or is that their kissing partner's breath? Eugh. Lean away, lean away, lean away. Their partner moves closer and closer.
The memory owner hits the door. Something rattles. Everything freezes.
MEMORY: First Kiss?
[CRITERIA: Max 2 Player Characters (due to size constraints), 6 Replies to Complete]
A feeling of mortification pervades this tiny pantry and the memory owner looks everywhere but their smooch partner, whose lips are overly puckered and glistening wet in the single, swinging overhead pantry light. It's even more dramatic with everything black and white like it is. Oh, seven minutes in heaven is always a mistake.
The memory owner takes inventory of the pantry as they lean away from their kissing partner. The walls are well stocked with real apples and waxy oranges, pears that are just a little too big, cherries in colors that cherries shouldn't come in sit in neat little piles just below boxes and boxes and boxes and boxes (and boxes and boxes, stretching up so many shelves) of colorful marshmallow cereals. That one has a clown on the front, this one features Pocket. There's one with a pirate that looks like Bruno Ellerby, advertising authentic pizza flavor. There's another that just says "DOGS" on the front in black impact font. On the opposite wall from all that are the pyramids. Literal pyramids, of all different sizes. A cardboard cut out of a whole cow leans against one wall, and the memory owner is pretty sure that bovine face is taunting them. There's a string of garlic hanging from the ceiling, and the memory owner is pretty sure they can smell it. Or is that their kissing partner's breath? Eugh. Lean away, lean away, lean away. Their partner moves closer and closer.
The memory owner hits the door. Something rattles. Everything freezes.