"Not that she EVER would, though, you know that, right?"Mark didn't say anything for a bit, just stood there in the kitchen with this look on his face... Then, he said, in a sort-of hushed voice, (probably cuz Michelle was crashed in my bedroom, nearby), he said, "Well, maybe we could sort of make the situation more agreeable to that possibility." He kept a straight face for almost a second, then burst out laughing."How?" I asked, still giggling, and wasting our little Knivers."Well, you could. But my handwould not let go. It was as if it were glued to my palm. I looked atthe fingers that refused to unclench. The nails were... painted? Abrilliant maroon. I quickly looked at my free hand. Ditto for thosetoo. What was going on here? I moved the phone back up to my face,brushed away thickening curls and spoke,"Who is this? What are you calling for?" I said as the soft cottonshirt I was wearing seemed to be shrink-wrapping to my arms, shouldersand chest. Now my clothing was changing too?. More

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