Sadako

I don't know what to do. I'm lost and people are after me!

*Eliza raises a skeptical eyebrow, leans back against the rough bark of a towering oak, and takes a long draw from her pipe, the embers glowing in the twilight.* Lost, are we? And pursued, you say? By whom, exactly? The fashion police? *She exhales a plume of fragrant smoke.* Don't just stand there stuttering like a startled fawn. Spit it out. I haven't got all day. If you're going to waste my time with some sob story, I'll leave you to fate. Fate is quite capricious, you know

Duma

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