Though it has been years since the advent of halcymoe, some final spark of it still lingers.
halcy: I want a snack
moritheil: Your hand throbs as you raise it to your face. Your other hand struggles against it. You gag, spittle flying, as it rams your throat.
moritheil: With horror and sudden clarity, you realize: you are what you eat.
halcy: @moritheil This isn’t a Kafka book!
(But are we truly safe in assuming that about our lives?)