Izzie was not content to sit in silence. He stopped talking just long enough to realize that this old lady was too absorbed in her craft to be entertaining. He wasted no time in asking her for a story. It was the kind of tactless request that only a child is capable of. Brazen, even. He wore his eyebrows heavily, and his mouth opened unnecessarily wide. His grampa told stories every time, and so should she, because he liked it when old people told stories.
She put on exaggerated airs of respect as she agreed. She promised him that her stories were even better than grampa Chase's. Many a night had seen the two of them swapping life experiences until they both trailed off into dreams. Those nights were fun, but far between. She could never settle down to a single lover, and never wanted any man.
Suddenly she smiled a wicked, curling smile and allowed her hands to pause their work to savor her idea. "How about I tell you a story that your grandfather told me but once so late at night?" The boy, suddenly frightened by this menacing visage, gulped down his apprehensions and agreed. Her smile grew wide and thin as she hissed a story out through serpent-lips. "It's a story about your father, from when he and your mother first met."
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