Page 234 of Fury

I could’ve stood here for hours studying her. She was real, visible, tangible, but we were separated from her. A Christmas fantasy display in a department store window. We’d be glued to that pane of glass forever, our eyes and senses swallowing every detail with wonder, but unable to touch it, live it.

I moved toward her, not knowing what I’d say or do. Only that I had to do something. My hands were suddenly sweaty, my mouth dry. I was Frankenstein’s monster, lumbering, awkward, intrigued. She was the innocent young girl picking flowers at the side of the lake.

“Oh, hello.” Zoë’s smile lit up her face.

“Hey. Zoë, right?”

Her lips twisted, her gaze darting away and back again. She was clearly pleased, and a bit flustered. “Mr. F-Finger, right?”

My breath tightened in my chest. “That’s right.”

She was the most beautiful flower, but I knew better than to throw her in the lake. I’d raise her above the world if I could.

I shifted my weight, my back stiff. “Those are real nice dishes. Did you make those?”

“Yep. I love red. I made only red dishes yesterday. Everyone should have a red dessert plate. It would make dessert so much more fun.”

I ground my heels in the floor, bracing myself under the spray of her diamond sparkles, the sheen of her fairy dust.

“Do you make cereal bowls?” I asked her.

“Sometimes.”

“Could you make me two in that red?”

She giggled. “Sure! Hey, did you and Lenore put in the tiles?”

“Uhh. No. Not yet.”

She scrunched her nose and pushed her glasses up. “Oh.”

The bandana laying around my throat was a dead weight around my neck, and I tugged on it. “I want to help her with the tiles, but we forgot to buy glue for them, and I’m not sure what to get. Could you help me?”

“Not glue, silly.” She let out a hearty laugh. “G-grout. Like cement. It’s called grout.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. Could you show me which one I should buy for her?”

“Sure. This way.”

I followed her over two aisles. A slight imbalance in the way she carried her weight gave her a shuffling step to her walk. She pointed to a bag. “This one. That’s what I use.” She picked up a small sack and handed it to me.

The sack thudded against my chest, and as I grabbed at it, our hands brushed. “Thanks, Zoë. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. You must like her a lot, right? She’s a very nice lady. She’s been shopping with us for a long, long time.”

My mouth dried. “I’ve known her for a long time too.”

“You like her?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, you like, like her, right?”

“How did you guess that?”

“I could tell. She was different around you. You both look nice together, especially with all the tattoos you both have. I want her to have a boyfriend.”

“You want Lenore to be happy. Like you are with Mark?”

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