consciousness/training/amygdala_stories/stories/melty.txt

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Whatever the drug was, it was working. She was aware of her skin as a single continuous surface, warm, slightly humming. The couch under her had gone soft in a way that probably wasn't literal. Her partner's hand on her hip felt like it was everywhere. She could hear every rustle in the room, and none of it demanded anything. Time had gone loose — something that felt like five minutes had actually been twenty. She tried to remember what she had been worried about earlier and the worry had the texture of a word she could almost recall. She smiled without deciding to, and slid a little further down into the couch.