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Fea, a bit hungry, but nauseated by the smell of saurkraut that for some reason wafted by her, coughed a bit and shivered. She was never warm enough until about mid-July. She avoided physical contact with people because shaking hands with them would inevitably invite their comments about how ice cold her fingers were.
She ordered hot cocoa with whipped cream - a throwback to her childhood - to wrap her fingers around, to warm them. "And can I have a veggie omelet please? No peppers..."
Not quite the right time for dinner, no doubt, but she'd eaten a few hours ago and it was definitely time to refuel.
"Phantom, love," she asked, noting her favorite narcissist still in drag, "you know I love you no matter what you're wearing, but I can't help but think your dress is going to get in the way of the festivities. I do love ballgowns, but nobody has ever accused them of being functional."
Chocolate, she said to herself smiling. Definitely want chocolate. Warm, nice, rich, chocolate... It would help prepare her for the morning, when she was slated to do something she couldn't remember ever having done before: spending a day with her dad, doing something they were both interested in.
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