Out in the garden, cigarette in hand, half full glass of red on the dingy steel table; she pauses to reflect on the glorious wonderland of nothing. Taking a swift drag, she's hit with a succesion of flashbacks from one of the previous evenings. Did she really do that? She ponders and shakes her head. Yet, in the mist, there it is, that face; his face. Forcing her back to that one, splendid night, so many moons ago.
That body, that face, that warmth. That feeling. Oh, how she loved that feeling. Daydreaming in a labyrinth of lost remembrances, a smile unknowingly spreads across her cheeks. Lost in a momentary lapse of content bliss, she definitely wasn't ready for the bomb as she realises what has happened since then.
Back to reality, cigarettes burned up, and her glass definitely needs a refill. With a sigh of resignation she slowly pulls her body off the chair and off to traipse on to the kitchen. Her barefooted scuffles silently echo through the empty lounge.
Today was one of those days. Brilliantly sunny, dazzling rays of buttery sunshine cascaded down onto a wooded floor. Outside, every colour, each pigment, seems magnified to effulgent intensity. The air's quite warm, yet a gently whisper of a breeze passes through; light enough to cool things down, but deep enough to disturb the air with an aura of waited expectancy.
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