the dance of life

Coffee with Giovanna in the Muse cafe, above Easons bookshop on O'Connell Street.
Pleasant.
She departed.
Enter the South Korean.
She seemed upset about something.
Could barely look me in the eye.
I carried the conversation for a bit.
It didn't get any better.
She was awkward and distant.
"Are you okay?" I enquired.
"Yes, yes, I just don't feel too good," sez she.
The noble Heelers became suspicious.
"Was someone rude to you in the street?" I asked.
"No, no, nothing like that," sez she.
She was looking into the middle distance, a picture of misery.
A dark presentiment crossed my mind.
Could she have figured out that the oriental calendar I gave her for Christmas was a freebie from a Chinese restaurant?
Hmmm.
"Was someone rude to you in this cafe?" I enquired hopefully. "Most of them here are okay but a few of them are unhappy people. If they were rude, it wasn't about you. It was about them. Watch out for the little Brazilian, the one with dyed red hair in a bun. She's going out with a member of the Black Jackets Arab Muslim crime gang. There's a match made in hell. Arf, arf."
South Koreany shook her head without making eye contact.
"No one was rude to me," sez she.
After a while we went our separate ways.
What a rum encounter.
Later back at the chateau I glanced in a mirror.
I nearly fell over.
One of my eyes had swollen up out of its socket.
The white of the eye had turned completely red.
Scariest thing I ever saw.
My other eye looked the same as it ever did.
Beady.
But not like a special effect from Damian Omen Three.
I phoned Giovanna.
"Gio," sez I, "did you notice anything different about me today?"
"Yes," quoth she, "one of your eyes is red."
I laughed bitterly.
"And you weren't tempted to tell me?" quoth me.
"I assumed you knew," sez Giovanna.
"There's a little South Korean girl wandering around Dublin who thinks I'm a zombie vampire ghoul," quoth me.
There was a chuckle from the other end of the line.
"Ah," sez Giovanna, "she's getting to know you."