1 Work by deadsandsflashing
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Summary
She had nothing of her own, just this. An object craving a subject. Wasn't she still Carol's fantasy woman, her loving wife, her loyal fan?
Zosia felt that old familiar fury, that old familiar (always-present) craving. Over the phone, she told the aunt she barely knew, "Bring me Carol Sturka."
A de-hived Zosia, a hived Carol, and an empty Sprouts.
