Day Fifty
Dear Diary,
Being a topiary sucks, but there is one benefit.
Roots.
And if I can move my leafy bits to write on this page, why not shift my roots around? That’s the idea, anyway. If I concentrate enough, I may be able to get my root-toes to break through the ceramic pot below me, grab onto a ley line and kick some butt.
With any luck, I’ll be able to do this before Fake Dare marries Lotti tomorrow.
That’s the plan anyway.
Better stop writing and focus on my feet.
- Calla
