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I looked at my notebooks and the picture of Kitty Pryde taped to theinside door. I touched the picture, the tactile sensation filling mymind with memories of her. I pulled out a folder and rifled through mychemistry notes. In my lithe feminine hands the pages seemed biggersomehow.Stuffed in the back of my former locker was an old hoodie. I took itout. This wasn't mine anymore but I took it anyway. I smelt it. Itsmelled slightly of stale sweat. Of how I used to smell. Boys stank. Itwas true. But I put it on because it was mine... I scribbled a note,thanking Pete for the hoodie and signing it Jessica. I also took thepicture of Kitty Pryde. Just cause. Ok, I was starting to feel likecreepy stalker girl so I got out of there.I swung to the Astoria Soup Kitchen to line up for a free feed. A coupleof rolls, some soup, an apple and an orange. As I was cleaning my bowlwith a piece of bread feeling self conscious in my gym gear Lyfe camein. He was sporting a black eye and swollen, broken lip.. This wasn’t necessarily sexual, he had to keep that at the forefront of his mind. The Krell were aliens, he had already seen that their ideas of personal space differed from his own. It was possible that their sense of modesty and what boundaries could be safely crossed differed too. This was just some kind of ... tribal rite, something to induct him into her social group, nothing more.He had to try to keep his mind off the silkiness of her scales, the fullness of her figure, or he’d get a damned eversion. This was a canvas just like any other, albeit a living one ... that was warm and smooth to the touch ... attached to the very incarnation of Valbara’nay beauty... Art, art was the only thing that could hold his attention now. He would turn her belly into a masterpiece, even if he didn’t fully understand what she expected of him.He turned and peered down into the wooden pots, selecting the dark green pigment and dipping his finger into the liquid. His fingers moved just as they did.
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