50 shades of fungus;

[ophiocordyceps]

[ She had numbered the boxes containing her things very, very carefully. Moving together, of course, meant a whole new level of intimacy, but that doesn't mean every single private matter needs to be instantly disclosed.

Particularly if said matters make her look slightly unprofessional.

So she's here, with box number 9, full to the brim with... Well. Can it even be called literature? A sappy subform of, for the lack of a better word, literature in the farthest sense. Time to unpack them all and put them in second or third row of some bookshelf otherwise destined for all things microbiology. It hurts her soul to combine these two, but alas, there is no better hiding place than a shield of books on fungal matters.

She opens the box and... ]

Oh shit.

[ She needs to work on her handwriting. She's greeted with the contents of box number six - a microscope and filed-away notes.

In other words, the box she thought Gretel was unpacking right now.

She sighs heavily as she braces herself for the inevitable moment of embarrassment. ]