For some reason, Missy paused and looked back on her day. She just happened to be leaning on the masonry fence of a terrace overlooking the sea, the sky, and the sunsets. Bathed in yellow, green and purple, shiny gold bangles weighing as much as hoopties in her ears, Missy thought, "I've pretty much spent my waking hours doing things others might find offensive, jarring, inexplicable, conniving, selfish, hostile, boorish, or the most unforgivable of all: impolite.
"But I want to acknowledge now, to myself and to la Mthyuh, that the choices I've made were bad, but not mistaken. My actions are mine and they are deliberate, not inadvertent, careless, reactive, manic, depressive, involuntary, sleep walking or flying, not prompted by hunger, thirst, lust, or...
"Wait. Yes, today, my actions were prompted by hunger, thirst, lust, mean spiritedness, irritability, and also a strong sense of justice along with the attitude, however realistic, that I've nothing to lose."
"More like no one." It was Mike, coming up the path from the pool. He grabbed a length of passionflower vine from the wall of the estate to wrap around his naked waist because he was a good and honorable man.
"I didn't know—I..." pantomimed Missy, freshly manicured, in a startle pose.
"I have enough K blood in me to speak with my mind only," explained Mike with his mind only.
"There's a really lot that you've got, isn't there?" Missy let herself blurt out.
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