Two hours pass and I can feel the words trying to slip off the page and smear their inky stains over me. A battle I can win, I think, sees me standing over the sink trying to set fire to the corners of the page with the glowing end of my cigarette. Ten left means I could be here for the afternoon. Paragraphs go up in smoke, covering the drain hole with ashes as strong as our commitment. One drop is all it took to wreak havoc.paris
On the drive home she pushes her finger deep into my forearm and a white oval blooms.
I sneak a look down where she pressed and see a fine crescent marked there. The mark is a little jagged because she’s been biting her nails again. She points at the side of the road and squeals as I take the turn-off to Danny’s house.
“Look at the blackberries. Remember how we used to pick them on the way home from the beach?”blackberries
Her faces and moods, like her wardrobe, changed weekly, if not daily. Flared jeans for one date, an Armani suit jacket for the next; a D&G dress for one, then Nikes and slacks for another. And when she talked to people from different backgrounds, although she did not like to admit this to herself, her market research experience helped in discussing the things they liked. She knew, for example, that E34's used Ecover washing powder and supported Greenpeace, and that F41's liked Star Trek: the Next Generation and read Harry Potter even though they didn't have kids. It wasn't that she was two faced; if anything she was 82 faced, or 34 four faced, that being the number of lovers she had in her twenties, as was fairly normal for people of her type at this point in time.the 82 types of person in the world