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She was in the habit of trimming her toenails before she went to bed For some reason, She rose from her chair and shuffled toward the bathroom. Brushing her pink bangs to the side, she stared long and hard into the mirror. Where had the wart come from? Could she get it burned off in time for Jeremy's visit?

Listen to her - thinking of him as Jeremy, as opposed to Dr. Henri. She hadn't even met the guy face-to-face, but she had been collaborating with him on the "Perilous Prawn" project for years. Email had been a lifesaver, but only recently had she seen a picture of the supposedly statuesque Dr. Jeremy Henri.

In the fuzzy digital picture, he appeared to be standing next to a 1Z-30 atomic supercollider. Ling-Noh had once bumped her head on the loading arm of the Beast, as she called it, which Dr. Henri was now standing under. She estimated his height at odd hours of the night, when sleep escaped her. If it were some sort of ruse, if he were actually a hunchbacked, short, sloth of a man, she knew she couldn't bear it. She would have to dye her hair black again, and live a mundane life, while if he were at least her height, and somewhat dashing, she could remain pink - and liberated-. Ling-Noh found strange congruences and compulsions revolving around this digital picture. How nice if it could all have remained faceless + imaginary.

"Jeremy, if only it were back to the Prawn days," she said out loud.

When he responded in a soft whisper behind her, she was not as surprised as she should have been. Pink bangs hung down into her eyes, setting off her chartreuse contacts and her powder blue lips as she stared at him in the mirror.

"Prawn is dead."