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#quarter

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Cinnamon preened. "I added thermal fins to my broomstick."

"My cauldron is now solar powered." Saffron turned to the final group member. "And you?"

Ginger shrugged. "I got a bigger oven."

"But a slow cooker uses less than a #quarter—"

"Don't be silly, it's not connected." She patted her ample hips. "When those kids push me in, it would be embarrassing to get stuck."

I slipped out of the kongresejo. The summer heat in New Orleans was oppressive & streets were quiet as people sought shade. I was staying at a little bed-&-breakfast in the French #Quarter & wanted to freshen up before the Interkona Vespero. I walked by the Museum of Death on Dauphine Street. A few zombies, wearing green stars, were coming out of the museum in high spirits after their amusing visit.
"Saluton!" they called, spotting my name tag.
"Ĝis baldaŭ!" I replied & continued on.

Generate an image that beautifully illustrates the concept of a silver quarter. This could entail a meticulously detailed rendering of its intricacies that highlight its characteristics. The elements of the coin such as the engraving, the texture of its surface, the shiny silvery hue it emanates under light, and its size, should be made prominent. The quarter could be placed against a simple yet contrasting background to make it stand out. Moreover, a touch of abstract interpretation could be added to enhance the image's aesthetic appeal and to imbue it with a sense of intrigue.

#aYearForArt #Generated #AI #Quarter #Silver #Method

No #quarter
Shall I give
You get no reprieve
Nothing hidden up my sleeve
I openly show my derision
My intentions are clear
All in plain sight
When I stab, it’s in the chest
Don’t watch your back
Hindsight won’t alter your plight
Remorse shown is remorse rejected
Lay in your bed, dejected
But sleep in peace
For I want you awake
When I take control of your fate
I want the fear in your whites
ME! and a knife, your last sight
And then...my laughter
forever after

It was a quarter to six. I was awake before the alarm. He laid there, blissfully unaware of last night's events. Mike thought I was out with the girls, having some drinks. I felt a little guilty about lying to him, but how could I possibly tell him what I did? He was fast asleep when I came back home. I enjoyed watching him, his chest rising and falling slowly, breathing rhythmic and soft. The way his eyes flickered when he dreamed and his black hair were very appealing. I could watch him for hours, and I often did.

I got up and had a shower. The quiet time in the morning was something I enjoyed immensely. Even when I was on tour, I'd be up before my battalion, revelling in the solitude. The steaming water ran over my body as I washed away any remnants from the night before. As I dried off, I turned and looked in the mirror. These eyes had seen more than they care to remember. Was it Mary the dutiful housewife, or someone else? I was torn between two worlds, vascillating in the liminal spaces of my mind. I knew that was in too deep to ever find my way out.

I checked that I'd packed my duffle back up in the wardrobe, careful to keep it well out of sight and away from the children and Mike. The weapon was in the safe, hidden securely in the laundry. I checked my phone; Victor sent a thumbs up signalling that the clean up had gone to plan. I was expecting another delivery today, but I wasn't prepared for who the target would be.