I can't put myself into my work just yet. There are too many things lingering around me. I am thinking of the 1968 Romeo and Juliet, and my poor heart is taken with sensibility for my sixteenth year. It is one decade since, and perhaps that is why sixteen has been so much with me the past few months. I am not longing for the past, but I want sunlight and long moments to dream as I did then. I will work, because I know there is no other agreeable path to noon and Lucrece, but I am dying a little with this longing for high passion and reverie. Shelley, you are not far from me nor are my other dreams. You are the merest thought, just a moment away.
Cassandra stood poised at her vanity mirror. Her long hair, which spilled past her waist, was twisted in one hand, and in the other was a pair of jeweled scissors.
As she lifted the scissors to cut, a larger hand wrapped around hers. Cassandra withdrew with a cry. "Kell! I didn't see you come in." He took the scissors away. "I take it you got the job." "I did," she said crisply. "Return my scissors to me." "Not if you intend to cut off your hair. What do you mean by this nonsense?" "I can't have long hair in the laboratory. It might catch fire or something." "Look there." He guided her to the window. Below them lay the scattered remains of a centuries-old city park. The benches were near invisible due to growth, while the pond had extended far beyond its original boundaries. Ducks floated serenely on its surface. "We played as children. Do you remember how you prized your hair?" Cassandra laughed a little drily. "Of course. I insisted all my powers as princess lay in my hair. I was haughty. unworthy of the friendship of you and your sister." ...