“¿Are you sure it’s safe?”
The historian adjusted his glasses & nodded. “Couldn’t be safer.”
She stared @ the ruby-red mandolin as it moved from the historian’s hands to hers, felt its thick but doughy form.
Then she slowly wrapped it round her neck, ending with its stringed tail flattening o’er her chest.
“This’ll lead to problems, I know it,” she said.
“No… Trust me–it’ll only do what you want.”
“No,” she said in a solemn tone, like a water drop in a cave.
& then, without a word, Nguyệt turned & walked out o’ the temple.