No sense of humor then....

..........A horrid scream.

It was purely instinctual, guttural, raw; uninhibited and prehistoric. Straight from a blighted heart. If the action of loud, angry vomiting were purely vibrations in air, that sound would be it. The kind of scream that heralds mental release. An utter loss of reason and function. The kind of scream that echoes from murder in a lonely, dark, and empty city. Reflecting betwixt the black chasm of concrete buildings. A scream that would check and shiver the basest soul to righteousness.

Everything stopped. All motion froze. The silence was sadistic and obscene. Slowly, eyes gathered and swiveled to me. Pupils dilated into focus. Hearts tensed, beating irregularly. Breaths choked in refrain. The light streamed in from the hall through the doorway where she stood, crisply silhouetting her: her one hand on the door knob, gripping firmly, supporting, her other hand clutching her jacket closed, her knuckles bulging and white from the strain of fear. She thoughtlessly tried to protect herself from whatever the scream announced. Her large saucer-like eyes scanned erratically peering into the darkness of the room. The look of utter horror painted over her face. Slowly melting off as she adjusted to the soft flickering light of the candles. She trembled and released the strangled breath in her throat. The sigh slowly turned into a slow moan. A slow, low, quivering moan. She began to sob.

Those in the darkened room looked away from her, embarrassed. Some shifted uneasily, awkwardly caught up. Her boyfriend ran up to her, protectively putting his arms around her. "You're such a &!@*?! &@$&?!*, Roy," he seethed with unbridled disgust.

"What?... " I happily smiled at her, "Surprise!!! Blow out the candles!"