Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. “Yeah, I’ve heard that story. ’ He did as she bid him, and was very soon rewarded by the discovery of an oval miniature, encased in gold. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. Her cheeks were aflame. The lights rolled over, and were extinguished. It was the only time she had ever hit him, punched him right in the stomach like one of his favorite Three Stooges episodes. They were delighted. Presently.
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