Mystery mail. It read: "I hope this finds you well". To no avail. You tipped the scale. Now I'll see you in Hell. . Sailing over this story's arc. A cardboard box that missed its mark.
The secretary. Said the prices vary. To cast in one's image. So I made the pilgrimage. . Meet me at the mannequin gallery. . She told me a story. About the model lady.
Mariah is aware. That most cabs won't go down there. Brimming with desire. Mariah. . Eager, burning tears. From thirty-thousand years. Welling up inside her.