Graham, I Can't Do It.

Day 20, mother's been threatening to take me to the medlab and let them force feed me. I'm a nutrition technician prepared to feed some sauda slice of humanity from birth. They took out the tube shortly after i woke up and started feeding me a nutrient mash that wasn't much different from what they pumped through the tube. But it smells of her, and i need that. She wanted me to eat, o, drink, and i will. Graham's already in me after all. Even lying in the med cot maby graham floating through me has already changed me. The ivy slithers beneath my skin. Can i catch you anything? I motioned