is the curse of the drinking classes.


The Heart DreamI used to have these dreams. They would drift into my sleep like ship sails unfurling, silent drifting dreams in startling shades of black, white and blue. In the strange dreams like a Picasso painting, a woman gives her heart to a man. She would smile at him serenely and pull it out of her chest like someone plucking fruit from a tree. Hand it to him like the most precious of things. Tall and willowy, beautiful and faceless, she stood before him offering her heart like the world. Face up in open palms for him to eat like raw sashimi with chopsticks.The Heart Dream
In some of the dreams, her heart would emerge from her chest like a


Meeting EveThe alarm rang. Its loud and piercing shriek shattering Lucy’s uneasy slumbers. She opened her eyes and glanced across at the numbers on the dial. Ten to nine. She read the clock face again. Still ten to nine. With a muttered profanity she threw back the covers and jumped off the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold stone floor with an audible thud. She glanced wildly around the room, her eyes roaming for stray items of clothing. Sighting a pair of jeans and an old T shirt lying on the floor, she scrabbled to put them on. Glancing over to the clock again she uttered another curse. She was going to be late. She’d have to tell them there was a bMeeting Eve
| one must know. |

--
"I'm sorry, was that the sound of your heart breaking?"
--
"I'm sorry, was that the sound of your heart breaking?"
--
"I'm sorry, was that the sound of your heart breaking?"
Previous Page12345...Next Page