S. K. Nicholas


Coming towards me from the bottom of the garden, she has a funny look in her eye that won’t say no. Sniffing her like a dog, I’m after the scent of pot but find only dreary tobacco. On the driveway in the glovebox of her car, there’s a tin of snuff and several polaroids of us in a state of mild undress. Oh, those knowing brown eyes. That shy, becoming smile that has a habit of disarming so easily. Whenever she’s nearby, I react in a way that makes me highly volatile. I’ve tried controlling it, but she does something to me that obliterates the silence of years in the space of a solitary second. There is a need in me to possess her, to diminish her star, and yet on the other side of the coin, I’m in complete awe of this creature that makes me seem so small…

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