Up In The Old Hotel
Scribble scribble scribble and Fred enjoys the smell of the marker ink. It's a nice clean chemical smell and it reminds her of Before, when she had new textbooks and pages and pages of paper to write on, and classroom floors that shone.
Make flats by rubbing unflat surfaces in triplicates together and the flats then become flatter than the thing you started with
Only Angel has really looked at the walls of her room. The other just brought tacos and sodas to her, and didn't come inside. They didn't look at the writing, from the hallway. They didn't come inside.
the head of a pin is 1/16 inch x 25,000, then demagnify by 25,000 = 80 angstroms dia. = 32 atoms across
When Angel came back, he read it, said nothing,watched her as she wrote more. Things change only in that the hotel is not empty at night. Angel is there, when the others go home, in the deep dark of night.
no matter what you look at, if closely enough=entire universe
She jumps down from the bed now and finds her blue marker, steps back up, and considers what to write next, tracing an invisible line with her fingertip.
"Not there," Angel murmurs, glancing over his shoulder at her. "They'll be able to see it."
Fred shifts position, and thinks. "I'm out of room on your back," she says. "Your legs are too hairy."
Angel considers, and turns under her onto his back. Fred sits on his thighs and, humming, begins to write new equations just below his collarbones.