Conversations at nearby tables withered as animals turned to watch, and music stopped a second time.
The D’dôdôSette bent to him. “Make it convincing,” he whispered, “or your pretty colleague will get nothing from me. Do you understand?”
He nodded at the floor.
“You said you were a poet,” the D’dôdô-Sette said, “so prove your eloquence, and prove it well. Make your words count, cat, as much as you wish mine to afterwards.”
The room had fallen silent.
After a sigh, he began.
“I am sorry, the D’dôdô-Sette. The truth is that I am envious. You are all that I am not.” He stared at the floor. “In general, I feel myself to be nothing. To be worth little. Only mundane routine acknowledges my existence, an acknowledgment that I suspect even the mundane resents.” He sighed. “What’s more, I am
