"Be my Valentine" she says when she wakes me, last night's music still ringing like church bells somewhere deep inside my head. She's adorably seductive through the morning mist, standing in the middle of the room in her black pencil skirt, boobs perfectly fitted in to a cream white balconette bra with little red hearts printed on it.
My hair smells of cigarettes and spring flowers. "You
have to fall in love ten times before Monday" she says, then laughs as
she yanks away the covers in one swift motion, like a magician. "I made
coffee the way you like it. Oh, and we need more Bourbon".
still haunts my memories but not yet my dreams. Time was always running
out for us but I still can't shake the feeling that before this day is
over he will have called me to say I'm still the one he wants.