Pamela swallowed. “They say we are all made of stars.”
Dr. Mercury’s eyes narrowed. “They do say that, don’t they?” she sighed, running her hand along the metal casing of the telescope. “Though from what I’ve seen, everyone is made of meat.” She leaned over Pamela, “every time I cut someone open,” she said, running a finger over Pamela’s cheek, “no matter how hopeful I am, it is always blood and bones.” She smiled then, but all Pamela could see were the fangs. “Unless you, my dear, are something different. Are you different, little scientist?”
-From a Dr. Mercury story I’m working on.
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