She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. She declined and finished with a few of her favorite excerpts from Scheherazade. ” “But—” “He left her alone. She had not chosen her life, but she was foggy on whether or not it was right to deny others the right to join her in her suffering. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. I had never dreamed of such a friend as you. He was human. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically.
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