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I hadn't realized that this pinkest of holidays was approaching until I pulled on a pink shirt (it was clean, I hadn't worn it in a while) and got comments about it at work in the context of the approaching Day of Gratuitous Luuuuurve.

The holiday is leaving me cold this year. I'm not getting all mushy over a romantic relationship that I really don't have as such, and I'm not angsting after what I don't need. I'm not getting hostile over people who need a jolt to get them out of their romantic rut, or the people trying to make a buck or three off people who need that external prompting to get them to express how they feel.

I know things will knock me back into the stream of proper time, but I feel outside of it right now. There's all this life going on, and I'm in my own little world, well-insulated from really caring about the things that the other people of my generation are getting all excited or bothered about.

Part of it's work. I know that I'm alien to my co-workers, but that doesn't bother me. I'm not as alien as I thought to the people who do matter. I'm not sure if I want to go out into the world when I have such a nice slice of Underhill in my mind. Is it possible to become ageless when you have no children around to remind you of how old you're getting?

The weeks seem short when you go to work on Friday, work all weekend, and then Monday night, won't have to work again until Friday. Never mind that you pulled a thirteen-hour shift...
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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