Go Next Day
The next day is a haze, a maze, a craze. You wake, bathe, and dress. You dress in your Dress, which your Sisters gave you, which you journeyed here in, which you have decided needs a name. Quotidienne. Yes.
You arrive downstairs. At the Breakfast Table is a graceful Figure, clad in black, almost a perfect silhouette, sitting askew, contemplating a Rectangle. It’s another Card, floridly printed, like the one from last night. The Figure offers you a smile and extends an elegantly elongated hand, inviting you to scrutinize the Card.
Something buzzes in the corner of your Mind as you consider the Person in front of you, while you are supposed to be scrutinizing the Card.