Lovely. It has that ring to it. A roll of the tongue. Like a liar’s lisp, it coaxes you in, lures you into a sense of security. It is a neutral word. No bias attached to it, no unnecessary thoughts. It is a good word. Whoever says it means it-why they said it is another reason entirely.
I watch the stalker slinking around my living room, unable to move. I frown. I scowl. He notices these expressions, and a lewd grin spreads over his face.
“Well, aren’t you lovely?”