“What the hell are you doing?”
She started, guiltily, dropping the pills, before her usual melodrama caused her to swoon majestically in black leather and heavy eyeliner. “Bereft of love in this wretched plane, I seek the affections of la belle dame sans merci to kiss these cold lips!”
The sight of this otherwise beautiful woman gothed to a ridiculous extreme touched my heart once again. I embraced her with all the love and warmth I’d been saving for her, unnoticed. She melted with surprise against my warmth, my life.
“She’s not your type,” I said, and I kissed her.