Eternal not Ephemeral

Ladies (and their associates) of various miens populate this book;

Amal offered a new conjecture. She suggested that the women had involuntary become medical guinea pigs. Weeks before she and her coterie had noticed their state of flowering, Amal had accidentally collided with a pharmacist. That pharmacist was walking through the locked hospital ward, where Amal's sister was a nurse. Maybe, that drug doc had not meant to dispense medications, but to surreptitiously test a rare gonadotropin.

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While Aya had no idea how the bandits, with whom the trash collectors were in cahoots, knew which families would be on vacation, at the office, or otherwise not present in their dwellings, she knew that contractors, like garbage men, go mostly unnoticed by the public. Elsewise, locals would have grasped that there were, amid their neighborhood, many innocent-looking piles of concrete in which single tiles had been arranged such that one among each stack pointed toward a potential target's front door.

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Quetta's nieces had advanced from s'mores to hot dogs. With Darren participating, family cookouts had become more interesting. Equally, waterpark outings had gotten better since Darren, unlike Quetta, was willing to ride the loop-de-loop slide that was her nieces' favorite attraction.

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At first, no one believed that a "lady" could be an offender. I told them otherwise. I even pointed them to websites that show while men are most of the perpetrators, women are perps, too.

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Once, not terribly long ago, there lived a green witch...Yes, she was mated! Not only did she avoid toads (they carry viruses and parasites), and not only was her lone, large cooking pot used for tincturing thyme, not for stewing spells, but she was married. Plus, her spouse was neither a warlock nor a narcotized sex slave, but a straightforward cybersecurity expert. It was his income that had allowed them to purchase the land on which their tiny house sat.

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Halleli submitted recipes for okrashka, a cold vegetable soup, and for solyanka, a smoky, sour soup. Those offerings represented content that appealed both to her gourmet predilections and to her readers' limited resources.

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Blue was horrified. Only parents feed inchoate penguins. She gulped down the last of her fish and then scuttled away. Prestige was one thing but living with a mate who couldn't mate was another.