““What do you know about shoes?” I started to ask. That got pushed aside by “What just happened?” And “Did I really see what I think I saw?” And “What are you doing in my basement?” And “How did you get in here?” And “Are you really a familiar?” Spluttering, I settled for “Who the hell are you?” “I’m Neko, darling.” “Neko? Just Neko? How about a last name?” Or was that his last name? I realized I was gaping, and it wasn’t any more attractive here in my basement than it was when Melissa and I wen...t out to Le Bar, and I couldn’t think of a reply when the guy making martinis flirted with me. Like that happened on a regular basis. “Just Neko,” he said. He looked around the room and clicked his tongue in patent disapproval. “Oh, my! You have let things slip, haven’t you?” My cheeks flushed, even though I didn’t have any reason to be ashamed of the basement. Once a librarian, always a librarian, I guess. The cascading books did make me feel vaguely uneasy.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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