The Dire Girl
She moved about the room as she spoke, hair bouncing, glasses slipping down her nose, hands full of notes she barely needed because she had clearly already said all of this aloud to herself at least twice before I arrived.
Then she said it.
“Werewolves.”
I snorted.
Not cruelly. Not because I wanted to hurt her. It was just too much. Too fast. The leap from clippings and nervous men to werewolves was so abrupt my disbelief escaped before I could soften it.
“Oh, come on.”
“I’m serious.”
“No, you’re absolutely not.”
“I am.”
“Jenny.”
She folded her arms. “Don’t Jenny me like that.”
I shook my head, half amused despite myself. “You’ve made yourself a murder wall and decided the answer is werewolv
Bab Populer