Monday, January 21, 2013

Part 7

I stared at him. Naomi was a childhood friend, but I hadn't seen her for years. And what talent? "I'm sorry, sir," I began cautiously, "but I honestly don't know what you're talking about."
     He grinned at me. "I should have known you'd deny it."
     "No, I really have no idea what you're saying." What was he talking about?
     "Is it possible she doesn't herself know?" Dom asked. "Lena, have you ever suspected something unusual about yourself?"
     I raised an eyebrow.
     "Lena, tell us about the dinner you had last night. Try to convince the guys here that we treated you well."
     "What does that have to do with -"
     "Just try it."
     I was confused, but began to speak in earnest, doing my best to convince Jo and the others that the bread the night before was wonderful: so moist, so delicious, so plentiful. And the meat must have been high quality, so perfectly salted and spiced, not too hard or too chewy. Dom, Arthur, and Caleb had made excellent preparations; I could have wanted for no better meal.
     The reaction amazed me. Even though I knew that I was not quite speaking the truth, I saw the men nodding along with what I was saying. Some were even licking their lips. I knew I had a way with people, but never to this extent.
     "This, Lena, is your talent," said Jo. "You are utterly believable. I know that bread and dried meat couldn't possibly have been the best meal you've ever eaten, but it sounds so delicious that I can't help but think it must be. I myself have begun to crave that very same meal for myself. You cannot completely cloud someone's thoughts, but you are a force of great influence. What a power!"

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