vignette: cardinal

Greed makes her dizzy, the myriad possibilities of acquisition triggering the onset of vertigo. Her mind spins with ephemera, some of it garish cartoons (swimming in McDuck's moneybin, spitting out coins), some of it in the parlance of silent films (newspapers flashing then fading, headlines announcing her latest incredible additions).

"I'll tell you what I want."

Anger makes her cry, the tears her body's coping mechanism against the buildup of heat behind her eyes. What trails down her cheeks sizzle and sputter, the coolness of forgiveness and goodwill evaporating as miniature wisps of pungent steam (she hates this occurance, thinking it a display of weakness).

"Don't, just don't. This is not about me."

Lust makes her laugh, so innured to the demands of satiation that the thought of bump-and-grind is reduced to absurdity. When she gets horny she imagines animals copulating in the bush, giggling at the helpless yelps of the female whose head it clamped down in the jaws of the male (amused because of her knowledge that even the act of fucking is contextualized politics).

"What makes you think it's you I want?"