runrunrun
"Civilized people," she said, her face reddening, "do not throw tea saucers."
He looked back into the darkness.
He flipped the hair out of his eyes, clearing space for the rain to get into them. "Poets," he thought, "don't know anything about rain."
He looked up across the table again: yes, she was still there, and she was still massive. He wondered if he had perhaps let his loneliness get the best of him.