It all started when she told me she lived in a floating forest.
“That's a load of crap,” I said with a laugh, pointing a lazily accusing finger over my drink. She responded with hands to her hips and a defiant glare.
“I do!” The forcefulness of her stamping foot caused some of the glitter in her hair to come loose and drift to the floor. “I live in a cottage in a floating forest. Not too far from here, either. I could show you.” I wasn't entirely certain of she was still being flirtatious or if she had progressed to a childlike desire to simply prove me wrong. The stomping indicated the latter, but her quickly returning smile was a clear sign of the former.
