She surveyed the school. “Why is no one here? And why has no one fainted from your beauty?”
Rosalinda perked up “I KNOW, THIS NEVER HAPPENED IN PINGASTOPIA. WHAT DO I DO. I’M SCARED.”
“me too, rosalinda. mee tooo.”
Deep down in her soul, pure as crystal and yet dark as the one of the nights that Hitler liked to paint on his postcards, Rosalinda knew she was too beautiful to be hipster, but she kept her pretty mouth, black like raven’s feathers, shut.
"Maybe we should start kissing - incestous behaviors always attracted the attention of Pingastopians."