Staring at the pink door at the bottom of the place, she thinks back to the night of her assault, wondering if she had had her present dirty blonde hair and protective duck duds and mannerisms the incident might have turned out differently. Because the black hair she had back then stifled the attack at first but only at the head. The brute ape of a man couldn’t see, hear, smell or taste. But he could still touch, the final sense he had remaining to go along with his senseless nogg’n. This attack didn’t make any sense except for 1, and that’s all he needed. At the peak moment he was distracted, with great effort she managed to pivot and give him the hook kick that knock him out dead. But… the shame. How she did it she still didn’t know. All she knew was that she was able, in this one particular moment of singularity, to uncouple Ichelus from Orgamast and live to see another non catty-corner day in the month of late April’s May.
