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datatime: 2022-10-06 01:54:03 Author:SOKTpyCm

Am I just a part of the minority, Doyle?

I've never seen your hair when it wasn't braided or tied in a club. I've never seen it loose, I said.

But yet the comparison of the two cities saddens you. Why?

What were you thinking about so very hard? he asked. The lights played over his face, painting colored shadows against his black skin. It was almost as if his skin reflected the lights like carved and polished wood. I was touching his arm, so I could feel the warmth, the muscles underneath, the softness of his skin. His skin felt like anyone's skin, but light didn't reflect off skin, not like that.

I'm sorry, Doyle, were you speaking to me? I shook my head.

What were you thinking about so very hard? he asked. The lights played over his face, painting colored shadows against his black skin. It was almost as if his skin reflected the lights like carved and polished wood. I was touching his arm, so I could feel the warmth, the muscles underneath, the softness of his skin. His skin felt like anyone's skin, but light didn't reflect off skin, not like that.

But yet the comparison of the two cities saddens you. Why?

Do you like it?

My father had gotten two silver stars in the war. He'd been a spy. I never remembered being particularly proud of the medals, mainly because my father never seemed to care about them. But when he died, he left them to me in their satin-lined box. I'd carried them around in a carved wooden box along with the rest of my childhood treasures: colored bird feathers, rocks that sparkled in the sun, the tiny plastic ballerinas that had graced my sixth-birthday cake, a dried bit of lavender, a toy cat with fake jewel eyes, and two silver stars given to my dead father. Now the medals were back in their satin box in a drawer in my dresser. The rest of my treasures were scattered to the winds.

My father had gotten two silver stars in the war. He'd been a spy. I never remembered being particularly proud of the medals, mainly because my father never seemed to care about them. But when he died, he left them to me in their satin-lined box. I'd carried them around in a carved wooden box along with the rest of my childhood treasures: colored bird feathers, rocks that sparkled in the sun, the tiny plastic ballerinas that had graced my sixth-birthday cake, a dried bit of lavender, a toy cat with fake jewel eyes, and two silver stars given to my dead father. Now the medals were back in their satin box in a drawer in my dresser. The rest of my treasures were scattered to the winds.

I'm sorry, Doyle, were you speaking to me? I shook my head.

Do you like it?

I was thinking about his medals that he won in World War II.

Am I just a part of the minority, Doyle?

A look passed over his face, some serious thought that I couldn't read. I'd never been around a man whose face reflected so many emotions, and yet been able to read so few of them. You are Meredith, Princess of Flesh, and as sidhe as I am. That I will stake my oath on.

I've never seen your hair when it wasn't braided or tied in a club. I've never seen it loose, I said.

I was still walking at his side, hands on his arm, but for a moment only my body had been there. It startled me to realize how far away I'd been.

He kept walking but turned his face full to me, never missing a step. He looked bemused. Why would you be thinking of that now?

Easily done, he said, and undid the cloak at his neck. He let the cloak slide off his shoulders, spilling it over one arm.

What were you thinking about so very hard? he asked. The lights played over his face, painting colored shadows against his black skin. It was almost as if his skin reflected the lights like carved and polished wood. I was touching his arm, so I could feel the warmth, the muscles underneath, the softness of his skin. His skin felt like anyone's skin, but light didn't reflect off skin, not like that.

I've never seen your hair when it wasn't braided or tied in a club. I've never seen it loose, I said.

A look passed over his face, some serious thought that I couldn't read. I'd never been around a man whose face reflected so many emotions, and yet been able to read so few of them. You are Meredith, Princess of Flesh, and as sidhe as I am. That I will stake my oath on.

I've never seen your hair when it wasn't braided or tied in a club. I've never seen it loose, I said.

None of my direct relatives were involved in Hitler's death, so I don't know for sure, but I suspect strongly that something simply ate her.

A look passed over his face, some serious thought that I couldn't read. I'd never been around a man whose face reflected so many emotions, and yet been able to read so few of them. You are Meredith, Princess of Flesh, and as sidhe as I am. That I will stake my oath on.

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