The smell of garlic and oil filled the gaps between my fork and her brown eyes, one darker than the other. Her eyes followed my fork down to my plate where it picked up one of the eighteen left over ziti noodles.
They were still breathing in small gasps. Sandra rolled over and squeezed his arm, perhaps a little more firmly than would normally be necessary.
“I go running in the morning at 4:30.” she said, “You might like to take off then.”
Her young acquaintance, eyes fixed on the ceiling, sighed.
Gods in heaven determined the fate of humans.
So, the gods decided that I be ugly. And when they inflicted punishment they went for the harshest, and made my bride odious too.