“Why so melancholy, Kitten?” he asked, looking down at her head on the long wooden table.
She mumbled something that sounded like, “I don’t know” or “Everything.”
“Well drink something. You look gaunt.”
“Thanks.”
“What?”
“Thanks.”
“I thought you said, ‘Fangs.’”
“Fangs? Why would I say anything about fangs?”
“I don’t know.”
She lifted her head from the table, gave a scornful look & walked out into traffic admiring the cacophony of horns begging her to move along.
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