“I have a confession, Eddy, my Edward.”
He looked up at her from his bench position, his standard sitting place in their very tall, very narrow new New Island dwelling spot shaped like a ring. “Yes, dearest?”
“I went over to Fishers Island last night.”
“Umm… in your dreams?” Eddy asked of his lover, his *inventor* Shelley. Again the red haired version. Just to be someone different or try to be.
“Nah, in reality. I wanted to check out the location of the K2 lounge. The, ahem, *landlord* said it was gone now in the text accompanying her profile picks, along with the attached cafe. Yup — both gone as I checked.”
“But — you were here all night,” countered Eddy. “You mean? … that period between supper and TV time, that hour?”
“Yup,” she said again. “And I was over there long enough to join some kind of academy. I think it was run by witches because they gave me this costume for free.” She quickly donned it. “Cool, huh!”
“Hazel, I mean, PHEH, *Shelley*, this is bad. Really bad.”
No, he thought, taking another gander. Not bad. He came up with another word: evil. Really evil.
(to be continued)
Sunklands 