Kafka's brows arched sharply. The word again, goddess.
First Nina, now Camila and his mind spun with unease, a gnawing curiosity twisting in his chest.
Could it be the same woman?
Camila's voice floated through the receiver, smooth as wine.
"Kafka, it wasn't just me and Bella who were shocked. Even the instructor, the lady running the pottery class, was floored. I swear, the moment that woman walked in, the poor teacher froze like a deer in headlights."
"For a few seconds she couldn't even speak. Just wide eyes, mouth opening and closing...Then finally she stammered out some nonsense about reservations, asking if she'd signed up for the class."
Camila gave a small laugh at the memory.
"And do you know what that lady said? She shook her head and said she just wanted to check it out...Normally the teacher is strict, Kafka, you know how these women are, 'rules are rules,' no exceptions...But this time? She couldn't even say no."
