story

Everytime a boy gets a haircut it hurts my ears. I keep staring at the wall and getting a tingling sensation in my feet which sets off a pulling in my chest. We lie on the floor of a drafty museum. The situation is like a luke warm cup of tea. Even coffee would be more exciting. I open my mouth and close it, watching you like a wolf watches her cubs.

The moment has passed from when I could have said something profound so I just throw the blanket over our heads to generate some kind of lumpy excitement. I keep having horrific visions in my head of what will happen when I leave this haven.

Concrete encompasses my whole body an hour later as I lose balance on the corner. My purse goes into a rain-addled drain. I try to make the best of the situation but your hand is not there to help me up.

Your apartment is like an ice cave and all your books are new editions with badly designed covers. I try to get some white paper and sellotape to cover them up with but you grab my hand.

Wiping blood from my brow you make a terrible joke and I pretend not to hear. I cough and it echoes like we are in wembley stadium. Pulling me close you touch my lips with yours. I close my eyes and think about the crusades. I cannot help the visions of historical events I was not present at when I kiss you.

You have an historic kiss.

Water goes in but I cannot drink anymore. It starts to swish around in my stomach when I walk. You put your ear down there to find out what is going on, but no one can really tell.

I remember the woman with the plastic face I saw earlier. She was walking too fast and had a shawl on. After I saw her I stole a bag of jellybeans and sat in the park.