Another Saturday, and my 'guest' was still playing her strange game. Wherever I went, she followed, gaze unwavering. It was a predator's stare, so out of place on that little wisp of a girl, but I was used to it by now, and I barely noticed anymore. It's amazing what you can get used to, given enough time. It had been more than a month since she'd levered herself into my home and life, and she had yet to speak a single word. Having seen what I had, I was inclined to let her keep her silence. Living without conversation was no great burden for me, so I'd eventually managed to regain some sense of normalcy. I gave each task my full attention, pouring my focus into every action. I made a ritual of yet another mundane task as I made us both eggs and french toast, as we ate in silence, as I cleaned up after. I didn't notice at all how my shirt's too-big collar slipped, careless, down one slender, pale shoulder. I didn't watch as she licked daintily at a spot of syrup on her delicate finger, her eyes never leaving me as she slid it between her lips. I pointedly avoided noticing the way a lock of her hair, dark and straight and silky smooth, only slightly mussed despite the night's sleep, fell across her cheek in a way the begged my fingers to brush it back behind her ear. I was so busy not noticing that I damn near missed my mouth with my next bite, and the laughter danced behind those deep dark eyes, so deep you could drown in them, so dark they might as well be black.
I finished quickly, then stood, taking my plate. I could do just as good a job not noticing at the sink as anywhere. I didn't take her plate for the same reason one does not take an antelope from a feeding lion. She'd leave it when she chose, syrup and powdered sugar scattered like blood and offal, but I'd deal with that when the time came.
I spent the morning in the studio, along with my exra shadow. I'd packed up everything but the old Bride of Frankenstein to ship out on Monday. To tell the truth, I didn't really have anything left to do, but it was a grand old poster, and I enjoyed looking at it. Ray had sent it to me faded, folded, and dog-eared, but it had still been a beautiful poster for all that. God knows where he'd found it, but that was his business. I just made her pretty again. She'd fetch $200,000 at the very least, if I didn't miss my guess. The way the market had picked up lately, and with Ray running the auction I wouldn't be surprised at all if she went for double that. I spent an hour or two making a few final touches, but I was mostly running on force of habit. It had been done for a few days now, I just liked looking at it.
On the way out, I passed an empty canvas. That was for my own work. I hadn't done a project of my own in months now. I kept meaning to, but it never seemed like the right time. None of my originals ha
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