14 lines
1.0 KiB
Plaintext
14 lines
1.0 KiB
Plaintext
Halfway through dinner, Sarla's stomach dropped, realising that it was unclear whether or not she was on a date.
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The afternoon's easy-going pleasantries were certainly typical of time spent with Marina, but upon being seated at the restaurant, Marina's smiles had a coquettish quality that Sarla had never seen.
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The hazy fog of the pre-dinner drinks smeared out the scene in front of her; a warm fog like a summer day.
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Sarla longed to stand and sprint, in any direction, until her legs grew too tired to move.
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Sarla felt her not-atypical post-drink urge to reach into the Meadowlark and burn off the mild buzz, but some foreign thought arrested her as she began.
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Marina smiled at her.
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The conversation had settled into a lull, and Marina seemed aggressively content to let the comfortable silence between them linger.
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Now that Sarla had registered how long the silence had stretched, she felt her mind grapple wildly for something to break it, anything to say.
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―I was reading about the codes of the Office of Chastity, she blurted out.
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Fuck, she thought.
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