Shiny splotches amongst dripping black weren’t hard like diamonds, but jelly soft in streaks across the walls. Something about the decor captured her very essence. Angular. Pointy. Wide and sweeping. Insatiable, yet sleek. Forceful, like a sports car, though utterly feminine.
Rolman waited in this her lair. As far as he knew, she had forgotten him.
He felt a grinding in his chest . . . perhaps the sinking sorrow of one unimportant enough to be left forever to rot and speculate.
Maybe she hated how normal he was.
I don't know anything 