<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Anonymous on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/anonymous/</link><description>Recent content in Anonymous on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Mon, 15 Mar 2021 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/anonymous/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Perspectives</title><link>/stories/2021/03/15/perspectives/</link><pubDate>Mon, 15 Mar 2021 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2021/03/15/perspectives/</guid><description>&lt;h4 id="early-morning"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Early Morning&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;p&gt;She was awake long before the alarm clock went off. &lt;em&gt;How had he found her at the cabin?&lt;/em&gt; That thought kept going through her head. No one had known where she was going, no way could anyone have followed her up the mountain road without her noticing, yet there he had been the next morning. Automatically she stretched out her arms to relieve some of the tension in her shoulders. At least she could be certain it was no dream this time. That last session on the cabin floor, trussed up in a painful hogtie with her arms behind her back, had been no fantasy.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>