Grains of sand

This could have been another one of those escapist Sundays drenched in Armagnac and embroided silk fabrics if it wasn't for Chloe's newfound roller coaster mood. She's always been restless but not like this, biting her cherry red finger nails and constantly looking over her shoulder.

We met up with her colleagues at a pretentious bar in Tribeca - a copy writer, an art director and an account manager wearing way too much Ralph Lauren Eau de Toilette (yes, my resolution still stands). Chloe always wants to go somewhere else but this time we stayed all night. When we leave she always lights a cigarette and slowly smokes it but this time she just hailed a cab and we drove north in silence.

The sound of her insomnia kept me awake until the sun came up and she rushed off to work. Mother spent her morning frantically dusting every glass vase in the apartment with a vintage looking ostrich feather duster. It's good to know some things never change.