She blew something into the air, just as you walked into the bar. Silvery spangles and gossamer trails covered your face and hair, gathering in the corners of your eyes like shiny sleep. You heard her giggle tinkling above the shouting of the Friday night crowds.
“Sorry,” she said and retrieved a large shiny flake from the end of your nose. “It was meant for her.” She pointed towards a dismembered shadow. “She's lost her body and the twinkles will bind them together again.”
“What will it do me?” you said.
She said, “Bind you, too. Not sure with what.”
And so you joined her table, her night, her life.