The bechamel was Dave's favourite ingredients of becoming sauce. Sure, he is a chef of French style, thought Charlotte, as her eyes swept the plaza flooded by drying leaves of autumn, the dying trees of the fall. Samantha was still sneezing of the cold she experienced after plunging herself to the lake close to Charlotte's house, naked. Now, after taking some metro here they are, around the cafetaria of the university in town.
Charlotte almost knew the place very well. She used to go here with Mom and Dad to see some recital, or orchestra, or concert by the campus' sorority... some less pricy, quite a comforting yet classy entertainment they could get when Dad was rather short of money.
People were so ignoring. Individualist spirit floating everywhere, and the four of them were just waiting to be the next. Right now, she could probably be there with the three friends, there smiled Anny, weeping bitterly to the fate anyone would endure; and it lasts a lifetime... here and now, there and tomorrow, within every bit of the darkest past, lays the demon who would call for redemption and shall be granted none. One careless mistake and the merciless gorge would just tore one's soul apart... There stood Samantha, eyes sill blurry by the cold, head as sleepy as a bear in the winter. She just hoped it that she would never wished of anymore meth, but that was what happened quite grudgingly inside her head... the pain, the longing... There smiled Carrie, somehow bitterly, remisniscing the memory of Ashton and their nights together.
Her three friends entered a souvenir shop.
