A friend mentioned they must be the new residents in the building. I couldn't help but notice the lady, she was tall and carried herself rather well. ...e continued our talks and soon left for home. It was a few days before I saw the new residents again. I was walkingwith Asiya when we saw them. The lady looked at us and smiled. We smiled back. She walked over to us and introduced herself as Mrs. Meena Patel and her husband as Mr. Dinesh Patel. We introduced ourselves and after a few minutes of. You remember the joke that Mr. Bowman, the math teacher used to make about lotteries being a tax on people who are bad at math? Well let me say that right now the people who are out learning the lessons that are necessary for humanity to fight the Sa'arm successfully are facing nearly as high odds and they are not going to win anything except another chance to fight the Sa'arm every time they succeed in surviving a battle. And we are winning very few battles. So far as the war is going I have. As you sink the aforementioned razor fangs into the severed arm you’re holding, the taste of not so much the man’s flesh, but his guilt pleasing your senses, it occurs to you that you can’t really do dinner dates, precisely. Even if you found a date interested in some long pork, don’t people like eyes to look back into? Probably less the pools of darkness where your used to be, the barest flicker of yellow at the center betraying keen perception and an ease for spotting the depraved and. Mrs. Rossini leaned out of the kiss. "We really should not be doing this. We shouldn't!" She whispered. Her eyes, however, were full of questions and suddenly it seemed like she was asking me. Till that moment, I had left my hands easily on her hips. While she looked at me, her eyes darted back and forth from eye to eye then down to my lips—when she looked at my lips, she would lick hers. Mrs. Rossini's eyes closed. "Oh god, Sonny. You really have to stop. You cannot be doing this. Really. You.