Have you drunk enough water? I’d like us to walk back there, and home and back until you start remembering it. Cow parsley was stretched up to the sky and I could even hear the little burs shouting at to me as I took them from home with the velcro on my trainers. I could see a pink light, in the top half of the sash window. “Follow me,” you would say, and make me chase you up the stairs, pretending that you’d heard a ghost. I wanted to go home but I never told you that. We just talked about chucky and shivered in the bed, watching a moth come in through the skylight. Terrifying. Blue teeth, tent-light.
June 17, 2010
