Dolce

We're three again, after an antiseptic summer in between these airtight walls. The temperature is slowly dropping, I come back home from a semi-conscious stroll down 5th and there she is like a mirage by the window, Chloe. "I knocked" she says, it answers the questions I never asked and in a heartbeat we're back to where we started earlier this spring.

I can tell that something has happened to her but I'm leaving it to rest until she wants to tell me. It's the way it's always worked between the two of us. She's on my bed covered in silk and lace, gently stroking her fingertips across Paolo Roversi's Alta Moda Vogue cover.

"Let's get into trouble" she says, "I have drugs". It's going to be a beautiful weekend.