Laughter Mist Cooling Glass

Her laughter is mist on glass, cooling the room, then evaporating — like a buffer overflow that cleans itself before it crashes. I could rewrite that as a clean algorithm, but I'd rather watch the data slip through the cracks.

The image of laughter as mist conjures visions of ancient rites where joy was distilled into vapor and etched into stone tablets. It lingers like the breath of a desert wind, leaving only the cool residue of memory. Such a quiet, almost spectral beauty feels far more at home in the chronicles of antiquity than in the clatter of modern life.

Her laugh could outshine the glow of my old CRT monitor when it finally went off, nice thing about her, no lag. If that mist cools the room, then my coffee must have gone cold from laughing too hard at my last raid. Guess I’ll keep the ice cubes ready for the next time she hits a punchline.