It wasn’t green, yellow, red or purple or any other color but black, purest black. Centerpiece. On her computer created by or more likely *in* Kabuki (= Kabusie), she begins to type out her story as requested. She answered!
“What happened next?” you asked. I, drew my gun. I opened the door. She turned from the window toward me — I distinctly recall a cigarette. Then: black out, as in my hair. You’ve heard about people turning white overnight. Well, for me the opposite. But I digress; Tin Lizzy did this to me. We were pre-1925 with only one selection to choose from where before we had 4. Paths narrow, trees become taller, shadier. She gave me my assignment and I didn’t like it *one* *bite*.