I.
I know it's my sixth -
this small chocolate cookie -
don’t judge me.
I've a wild notion that
whatever makes me happy
ought to be right.
Yes, it's my eleventh -
don't stop me.

II.
Happiness is
one more sip
of that bitter red liquid
that burns my throat -
don't judge me.
So sweet, settling well,
I raise my voice and yell
in a quandary -
Give it back!
don't stop me.

Kallah told herself he was nothing. The cloaked man was not following her, even though she had spotted him each day on the road. But why were his steps gaining on her?
If you run you’ll look guiltier. There is always the mantle…
No! She jerked her hand away from her pack.
Even if she hadn’t, it was too late. The stranger started to talk to her, coming to her side with fearsome speed. “Why are you crying?”
Kallah nearly froze up. “What? I’m not… I’m just traveling…”