Dead Songbirds
There seemed to be almost nothing left of Lalitha; she was breaking up on him the way dead songbirds did in the wild...
Loss
We are all Receding
I went for a rug-rethink in Queensway this afternoon. Fifteen quid, just for a feminine touch. That was all I was after. The smocked chick fingered my hair and said in her stupid voice, ‘You’re receding.’ ‘We all are,’ I said. We all are.