Liberty's Sparkle (22)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (22)"
   
   "Canis lycaon, or Eastern wolf.  That can even mean a black wolf.  Or just Canis lupus, spotted around here on the lower peninsula and all."  Tom, talking about the wildlife books he'd checked out at the library.
   Liberty was all casual and girly, yet sophisticated, saying:  "I like to own the books I read.  Plenty of science fiction, but nowadays it's all morphing into urban fantasy--and there are wolf stories.  The werewolf always depicted as a Class A type of dude or chick, being aggressive, liking to mix it up with fangs or fisticuffs; plus, plenty of spicy beef jerky."
   Tom retorted, and for no good reason, just to explain:  "I know, I know.  But all that is so beastly and untrue.  The wolf represents friendship and loyalty.  Yes, there is a bit of suspicion, but it is a noble beast--look at Spanky, that terrier descends from the wolf, and he's a real buddy."
   Liberty liked Tom, plenty.  She sipped sweetly on her Bud Light Lime, outta the can, watching Tom smoke a cigarette and jingle the crushed ice in his Diet Sprite; next, he got up, walked underneath the shimmering moonlight, pulled a bag of pretzels out of a gas station bought cooler, opened them up with a swift tear, took one out and bit into its crunchy essence, saying:  "These are good.  I'm gonna try the chocolate ones next."
   Liberty giggled at the normality of it all.  Just two people, getting along, and finely so.