Dark Love
She didn’t bother trying to answer that.
Reaching for a hair brush, she brushed her hair and held it back in a loose pony tail. Then she exited the dressing room, surprised to find Lemuel on the couch with a small transparent jar in his hand containing a yellowish kind of paste or cream inside it. He was not smiling. His face was expressionless. Of course, there was nothing to smile about. She noticed that he had donned on a short sleeved white cotton shirt which made him look like an angel. She knew he wasn’t. Sometimes he could be, though.