From 08091b4a0c680834440bf83aaff922b373e3c40c Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Scott-Clary Date: Sun, 19 Feb 2023 21:31:00 -0800 Subject: [PATCH] Typo --- content/seasons/winter.md | 2 +- 1 file changed, 1 insertion(+), 1 deletion(-) diff --git a/content/seasons/winter.md b/content/seasons/winter.md index c936b12..3c4815c 100644 --- a/content/seasons/winter.md +++ b/content/seasons/winter.md @@ -256,7 +256,7 @@ How hard the year dies, and yet there is Spring. She has walked the grassy flat > > {{% cite source="behesht" %}} - That was back in 2015, though, so perhaps not. The dates don't add up. That was seven years before you died. It's one of those things where you couldn't have known. You couldn't *possibly* have known, and yet I suppose you bore within yourself the seeds of your death from birth, just as we all do.[^42-2] + That was back in 2015, though, so perhaps not. The dates don't add up. That was seven years before you died. It's one of those things where you couldn't have known. You couldn't *possibly* have known, and yet I suppose you bore within yourself the seeds of your death from birth, just as we all do.[^40-2] [^40-2]: Or, at least. I know I do. I know that I'm stuck with those death-thoughts, the ones that won't leave, will only curl up into a little purring ball in the corner of my mind, unwilling to let me out of its sight.