Something is wrong in this place.

Stares can be cruel, yes, I see that. Scar tissue does not bleed, it is a sign that things are planned, not random, yes, stories and people, the world's architect, self-evident. I see and know. I am not hurt any more. Look all you like. And I will look back at you. And we will see who is the strongest. I am bigger. Mind, body, scar tissue. Yes. I do not like "vibrations". The term is imprecise. No. It is mood I feel. Mood comes from choices. Mood comes from entities, from people and things which pass through or rest in a place. Rest, yes. All choices.

Dark panelling. A choice. Lighting that makes one area - that one by the bar - bright, that is choice, that makes shadow elsewhere, yes. The mood. It is wrong. I see. I will unravel. I see architect's plans, yes, I see.

They look. Covert stares. Why should such shyness intimidate me? It does not. I stare back. They look down at their food. I am stronger, body, mind. They always look away. I come in here, I am strong, I am woman, I can be alone, I will examine mood.

My pearls, my jewels, they jingle when I move. I am big in coat and hat and mind. I see the smallness. Scars are not bad things. With age comes scars and mind. It is not the people here that are wrong. It is something else. Mood. Like whispers in walls. Like mirrors watch the backs of our heads. Yes. One is watching. I will find its eyes and stare into them. Yes. We will see who has the most scars.