Glissando is a woman with wistful eyes the color of lilacs. Her soft pink hair is thickly plaited to her knees. Her eyes are the kind that never focus close by. They stare a thousand miles in any direction she's looking and when she looks at you, she sees straight through to the end of you. Her clothes are confectionery, skirt puffed out like a cupcake. She leaves a trail of lovehearts wherever she walks. She eats one absentmindedly, tongue tasting past the sugar to the subtle salt of the baker's tears.
There is a broken hearted baker making hearts for all the lost girls: The girls who gave their hearts away to whoever would have them. The girls who had no hearts to give. The girls who gave themselves to a dream or a time or the future. The girls who just want to get laid right now.
"They just need the love of a good man," he tells himself. "They'll come around soon." He falls in love with all of them. He gives them all his hearts. Glissando eats them all. She knows it won't work out.
"He makes his hearts from a mold," she shrugs. "It takes stronger stuff to hold a wild thing. Stronger and bloodier. Something filled with freedom."