She turned to me and smiled, extending her hand, "Please." Her 
red hair shone and her eyes twinkled. I gave her the salt. 
Humming, she sprinkled it over her food. I ate as well.

	We'd watched each other prepare the meal, so we knew it to be 
safe. Still, she felt the need to use salt. Too bad; it was such 
a fine veal parmesan.

	We discussed ethics; evil as good from the perspective of evil 
and good as evil from the perspective of evil -- dependent upon 
your initial opinion of what is good and what is evil...&c.

	She finished eating and drank the last of her wine as we arrived
at the conclusion that there IS no real conclusion. She flicked a
glance my way and asked, "Witch's honor?" I couldn't quite tell 
how she meant it. I didn't ask. She faded into the scenery until 
there was no more of her.

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