Or shouldI say, a sisterly squeeze.I stammered out, "No, you don't understand. I'm not... I mean, I'm nothere for. I just need to find my Mistress... My girlfriend. MyMistress."He wagged his head and said, imitating my confusion, "My mother. Mysister. My mother." Then he drew close again and said, "Don't worry,Jane. It's only Hipster Town."I half recognized his words as a twisted version of some famous moviedialogue, but was too desperate to focus on that. Instead, I told him,"No,. It was late afternoon on a warm but rainy day and few people were passing by. Even fewer were venturing into the tearoom. Sometimes she saw figures huddled under umbrellas rushing by outside, and heard the sound of their heels clicking on the pavement. More often there was nothing to see, and only the sound of the heavy rain and the ticking clock. The atmosphere in the place was hot and sticky and moisture ran down the windows where steam from the teapots met the cold glass. Lana had. More

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