Creepy Time Gal

The man with the secret moved closer when the stool next to the young blonde woman became vacant. He waved from a few feet away, but she, absently fingering the beaded edges of her shawl, was lost in a plume of smoke and shadows. Her head bobbed in and out of view, and as her profile became more definable, the man with the secret realized that something about the cast of her features was familiar.

Unexpectedly, the young woman turned her head ever so slightly and smiled at the man with the secret. Her unusual shawl glittered even in the semi darkness. Quickly, the man signaled to the bartender to give her another drink.

"Beautiful shawl," he said, daring to move his stool a few inches closer. "What's it made of?"

"Special, secret things," she replied mysteriously. "And thank you." Nervously, she fingered the edges of the topic of discussion. "It's been in my family for years. It belonged first to my grandmother and then to my mother."

"It's lovely," he said, "And so are you, by the way. What's your name, if you don't mind my asking."

"Mary," she said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Mary Brophy. And thank you for the drink. What's your name?"

"Dan Carlson," he said, but that was just the name he was using. "My friends call me Dan. I am happy to meet you, Mary." He extended his hand.

Hers was cold to the touch, but lovely and small. The man with the secret was excited.