The glistering napalm of her glance narrowed, but it was in a trademark sort of mischief, a chemical spark of curiosity. She didn’t abrade him with that glance, as it hiked up, then down, then left, then right in a (seeming?) gesture of casing that choice of vestiture of his. She wasn’t entirely sure at the time if she approved of this outfit of his or not. Though if we’re being honest, it was certainly a lot more thrilling to look at than Dwayne over yonder adjusting the overburdened slope of bestsellers in his oil-stained drabble, too loose on his droopy, bleached white bones. She is incurably denied of any instant familiarity with Amadeus. At least, in that sliver of a moment. But to his credit, her memory has always been a heart-shaped sludge. Still, she spoke as if she knew him. Because, obviously he wasn’t human. Which meant, in some ways, she did know him. “Sadly, due to local laws and ordinances, unfortunately I can only go on a full-blown rampage in the safety of my very visionary mind.”
Now, this all-enveloping carnival of glossy magazine covers might seem like a veritable museum of glimpses into other people’s make-believe lives. One could indulge in the fact that each perfect geometry of a storybook held another throb of intrigue; some door to elope through, some unruly wilderness to befriend. But if one squinted closer, each cover offered nothing but a thrill of plastered letters, an unexplored name, sometimes an immaculately photoshop-riven face. She'd already read all this years worthwhile ones, okay? She can recall a time when magazines and books were smothered with strange life on the covers, in the pages. Light-shivered woodlands, prisonic grey castles. Women heaving, brindled and bored. Speaking of bored, yes, she’s fucking bored. She leaned onto the counter with her elbow, perched her chin into the moony cusp of her hand. “Though things certainly just got a lot more interesting tonight. Let me guess, you’re here for Vogue Knitting International?” she asked in resplendent, admirable deadpan, knowing that he very fucking much was not here for Vogue Knitting.