Hips tended to be the bane of Shari’s existence as she tried diet after diet to get rid of them. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. He must have been following her from room to room, silent in his stockinged feet. They left the castle that day for another, packing with them the leftovers of the troupe that followed them from place to place, never asking about the occasional disappearance of one of its unlucky members. Sheppard was unwillingly compelled to listen. I've got an address here. ‘Softly, you say?’ she uttered, raging. There was no rush.
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