witty repertoire

[Elvira Winters]

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She was getting better with stairs. Despite her limbs becoming longer and her body stretching out to greater lengths, puppy-fat still clung determinedly to her rotund form—her belly still hit every stair as she slowly made her way downward with anything but grace. Waddling along—nails clicking on the floor—she slipped outside.

Today, it was cloudy. A light mist fell. Within seconds her thin coat was soaked through, and shivering violently, she retreated back inside—a disgusted scowl on her plump features. Sitting just inside the door, she watched the rain fall. Thunder rumbled in the distance and one ear twitched at the sound.

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