In her dreams, Lyla always ran on all fours.
What did it say about her that she could sit at a desk all day, pay a mortgage, embrace monogamy, and aspire to 2.5 children, but in her subconscious, she was clearly still an animal?
Lyla suspected that all of the trappings of civilization were just that -- trappings. Underneath, man was still as primal as he once was.
She contemplated the primal nature of man as she navigated the frozen food aisles of the grocery store. The absurdity of this was not lost upon her. She would have been hard pressed to think of a more sterile activity; the teeth had been thoroughly pulled out of the process of food acquisition. But man was still a predator. A carnivore is still a carnivore even if he distances himself from the kill of the animal by buying its meat wrapped up in neat little packages.
One could cloak a nasty truth in pretty finery -- fine clothes, face powder, perfume. But putting a ball gown on a rhinoceros doesn't make it any less a rhinoceros.
If an animal denies its instincts long enough, will they simply go away?
Evidently not, Lyla thought. After all, at night, she walked like a gorilla, and she ran like a wolf.