" Where the HELL have you been? Do you know what time it is?" he screamed." I've been worried sick about you!" It's well past dark and I was just abou... to take the carriage out to look for you!" Didn't you find my note I left on the table?" she answered, her face all flushed with her cheeks red from the cold outdoor wind. Her hair in disarray halfway come undone under her bonnet." Did you eat?" she asked."Did I eat? How the HELL do you think I could eat with you out in the dark galavanting on. “I can see her going on adventures. But you... So quiet. So innocent.”His hand crept near mine. I pulled it back.“Have you heard 'bout what's going on down in Ke-Thi?” he asked.I frowned. “What is going on in Ke-Thi?”He grinned his thick lips, dark stubble clinging in scraggly patches to his cheeks and fat jawline. “What'll you give me for the info?”I shuddered, seeing the hunger in his eyes. Feeling utterly dirty, I coached my voice low in a good imitation of Aoifa. “That depends on...how big. The moment he noticed her blood-red hair and pale skin, his smile faded away as though it had never been there, and it was replaced with a dire look, like he was dealing with a criminal now.“What do you want, boy?” His voice was full of disgust. Cassia’s temple twitched at what he called her. She decided to let it go.“I’d like ten apples, sir.” She said as pleasantly as she could.“Fifty coppers.” He said, simply.Cassia glanced at the sign announcing the two-for-one deal and then at the sign. They just came from my pen as I sat in my seat:The words and the thoughts of someone, I think,Who works in a lab mixing India Ink.I know each bottle I buy at the storeIs filled with great words of wisdom and lore.Great poems, a novel, a play and short story,Fantasy figures and tales of glory—Thought up in front of a stainless steel sinkBy the chemist who mixes India Ink.Ms. Faber, our creative writing teacher, liked my ditty. I got an A on it. She wasn’t quite so fond of my narrative poem.“If.
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