marrowfatpeas
Player Valuation: £500k
I treated myself to the full glory of a British Sunday roast this evening - roast beef blushing perfectly pink, potatoes shattering under the fork, and gravy so rich it could buy a manor. For a fleeting hour, my kitchen was a cathedral of comfort, the air perfumed with triumph and thyme.
Now the air has thickened. What was once the scent of gravy and rosemary has become something heavier, born of the body’s own work. A low, rumbling chorus echoes through the rooms, punctuated by sudden, subtle bursts - the unseen accompaniment to the invisible cloud that clings to curtains, carpets, and furniture alike. The atmosphere has taken on a strange, planetary weight, with air quality like Neptune hovering just above the floorboards.
The smell has clung to my wife’s work uniform. She regards it - and me - with fierce, unyielding displeasure, her eyes blazing with quiet condemnation.
Now the air has thickened. What was once the scent of gravy and rosemary has become something heavier, born of the body’s own work. A low, rumbling chorus echoes through the rooms, punctuated by sudden, subtle bursts - the unseen accompaniment to the invisible cloud that clings to curtains, carpets, and furniture alike. The atmosphere has taken on a strange, planetary weight, with air quality like Neptune hovering just above the floorboards.
The smell has clung to my wife’s work uniform. She regards it - and me - with fierce, unyielding displeasure, her eyes blazing with quiet condemnation.
