The fire popped again, sending a spray of tiny orange sparks into the dark.
The old man took that as his cue and finally spoke about the last kind.
"Now… the diamond ones," he said.
This time both Manoj and Raven leaned forward at the same time.
Their shoulders almost touched.
If gold women were already goddess-like, then what in the world were diamond women?
The old man noticed their eagerness and chuckled softly.
"The diamond ones aren't much different from the gold," he said.
"But for them… you are the first man in their heart, and you are the last. No one comes before you. No one comes after you. Simple as that."
Raven's eyes widened a little. Manoj actually sat up straight for once.
The old man nodded, letting the weight of those words settle.
"These are the three types of women. Mud, gold, and diamond."
He pointed his cigarette slightly toward the sky.
"Except for the mud ones… any of the other two will make your life warm. Safe. Happy."
