>It was a cold and lonely night when Judee brought pen to paper and began to write what she knew she never should have.
>Anon was Fang's. Fang was Anon's. It was so right. It was meant for this world. They were in love and they would do anything for each other.
>Was it wrong to ask of that for herself? To catch a dying flake of ember just to feel, to imagine, how hot it burned?
>Time and again her hand stopped, the taboo of it almost too much for the closeted matchmaker to even imagine any other life for Fang or Anon.
>But... she wanted to imagine what it might feel like.
>214 short stories existed in three worn journals under her bed. 214 stories of romance between a lovestruck ptero and a human who would do anything for her.
>This journal was new. This journal was bought with dangerous purpose. It would only hold one story, she'd said this to herself time and time again. One and no more.
>It... would end with one, wouldn't it? She'd probably throw it out after tonight really. Yeah. Yeah, she would. She just needed to get this out of her system.
>Just one story and then... never think about it... ever again.
>She swallowed hard. A breath was needed. Just one. Just... one.
>'This is the story of Judee, a shy girl with troubles speaking to others... and the human boy she met one day in school.'