Image from the website of Grounds For Thought book shop and cafe. Tweet
I pound across the rooftop. I leap over a skylight and hit the other side. Two quick recovery steps to regain my balance. I run hard for five metres, each one building the electrical surge in the thighs and calves of my muscle pants. I
Her name was Genevieve Monteresse and she shut all the doors and windows when she left. It might have been a statement, but it’s difficult to tell. She walked with straight legs, bounced with every step, and she could walk just a pace in front
I watch her as she sleeps, and the slow rise and fall of her chest marks the time we have together. It is the clock that tells the time, the only one that counts. Each beat of her heart, a movement of the second hand,
Dog me long, but I never seen such a sight like that, before or since nor ever after. She moved like twisting in the wind, like smoke in the dark, like blood in the needle and back down to earth. Good God damn, I was
“Bill!” I hear call, and then it’s tits to the wind, bastard and biting cold as it is, and I’m all down in tangles and the alarums shriek in the headphone and it’s all talk talk from then on.
As close this as we could get, no more, the boys and I.