Reclamation: Noodle Stall II

“You have the wrong man.” he said, slowly putting the bowl down and setting his hands flat against the counter.

“You don't recognize my voice? Maybe I can jog your memory. How about these words: no, don't, stop, please, you're hurting me!” She echoed her plaintive pleas from her nightmares.

He tensed, shoulders hunching upward beneath his camel colored coat.

She continued, “It was bright in my dining room. So bright. You brought in flood lamps because you needed to banish all the shadows to see clearly. To film properly. Do you remember how you were all smiling and nodding. You were enjoying yourselves. Pleased with your work. With hurting me. Even when the tears blurred everything else, I could see your smiles.”

“You're not human. You don't have any rights.”

And there it was. “But I have capability. If I pinch these two fingers together, like so, I can grind your spine to dust.”

He grunted with pain that turned to a hoarse gasp. “Unhhh. Okay, you've made your point. Aghhh. What do you want?”