Inquiries

Claire had been receiving not-so-sly inquiries as to her dating status for three days; it was clear that someone had identified a new introductions victim and was simply waiting for their moment to pitch it more directly. "So, we haven't seen much of you this winter," Milo began the conversation and, in her mind, she remained at least one step (if not two or three steps) ahead of his sidewinding into, "Hey, I know someone ..." "No," Claire interrupted. "I am not lonely; I am not looking; I am not intrigued; I am not in the least bit tempted; I am not on any kind of market, because I am not fresh meat - I am well-marbled, cured, and expensive." Milo laughed and apologized half-heartedly. "But ...," he started. "BUT," Claire interrupted again, "all of you (and here, he winced a bit on behalf of the conspirators) have asked the wrong questions. What am I reading? Rebellion fantasy and true crime. What am I watching? Revenge dramas and horror. This is the landscape into which you are endeavoring to insert an unsuspecting and ill-prepared suitor. It would be disastrous; if the affection target survived more than two weeks, no one would more surprised than I; do you really care for them so little? Are you, in reality, trying to schedule a hit?" Milo placed his forehead on the table and groaned. "Where were you when I got talked into my last blind date?," he mumbled. "Probably at the back of the cave with my eyes glowing red," Claire responded gently, and patted him on the shoulder.