She was the picture of joyous abandon, soaking wet, barefoot, smiling. She paused under the sign for Love Street. If she’d been anything but human, I would have thought the hesitation contrived for my benefit.
I stepped out of the alley. Her smile faded. She clutched her red purse, thinking me a thief.
“I couldn’t have concocted a better scenario,” I said.
“Me neither.” Her smile returned as she opened her purse to reveal a rosary floating in rainwater.
The storm hid my steaming flesh, covered ragged screams, allowed her time to dispel me from my host.
Goddamn nuns anyway.