delirious: (look up)

part b of section three:

"How did you even get up there," you ask. There are boxes on top of the kitchen cupboards, and if they hadn't been there you would never have noticed the space between the wood and the walls. The last time you were here the floor was still covered in a layer of construction dust, but now the room smells vaguely like cardboard.

Amber shrugs her shoulders and you notice the way her hair falls in her face when she looks the other way, over her shoulder at the closet as if it holds the answer to your question.

"Well, you could just hop on the counter. Or you could put your foot over there, on the windowsill then propel yourself over the sink. Don't worry, you're too big to fall in the sink."

You suppose that is good enough and turn towards the window to examine the possible handholds you would have if you carry out what she has described. Doesn't seem like there are many; the wood finish is smooth and the granite counter gleams. At least with rock climbing you have colourful putty like things that definitely do not feel like putty in your hands to hold on to. When you look back at her, she has dragged out some of the thickest and biggest books from the closet, setting the last one, Woe is I, on top. A grammar book.

She then rushes to explain the hardcover Anatomy of the Human Body, Interpretation of Dreams, Principles of Biophysical Chemistry, The Last Emperors of Rome.

"I use these."

"Books," you state, unimpressed. The glossed covers look suspiciously slippery, and the science book has goldfish on its cover.

"Textbooks," she corrects. "Can't say they weren't ever useful now, can you?"


The coffee cup that has cooled down
a little is like a merry-go-round
It mimics our inertia

Let's kiss one more time, and
expose your secret
Beyond your tongue and mine,
there's the truth...

kiss twice, kiss me deadly,

January 2016

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