You were in the Great Tundrous North, zipped up in a baffled down coat. No, not that flimsy unique jacket thing from SoHo c. 2015, but stuffed tight in a COAT like hot blueberries in a blintz on Delancey c. 1982. Sat around helping a friend boil down birch sap on a stove in a cabin, a cabane à sucre... catching up on some The Walrus back issues sitting dense on a shelf. In a blink, the fog out the window darkened left to right and you ran outside to see, What the?!?
Stillness.
Then IT puddle-jumped over your foot, but you scooped it up with the mug you had in hand before it dashed again...Your friend saw you flail wildly about from the porch and yelled, WHAT are you doing NOW? (Reminding you that you weren't so great at keeping watch of the steaming vat of sap.) Yet upon seeing your mug's catch said, whoa, let's get more! and ran inside to get the other two mugs from the open shelf to scoop up the rest of IT...and here is what THEY are...
