NINE SECONDS by Joan Curry
3 am and brandy warmed her belly. Lights winked across the water lapping at the piles under the bridge. She flung her arms wide, giggling: “iconic Titanic!” And then, “look out world, here I come!”
An urgent rush, and the explosive release into light. She blinked, bawled. Hands wrapped her in towels, faces loomed. Later, pigtails with red ribbons, the squeak of chalk on blackboard and sandwiches, hopscotch. Yay, London! The VW combi.
She found Dermott, wicked smile, enchanting accent. Gorgeous Dermott, bloody Dermott and that skanky slut – how could this be …
Nine seconds later black water enveloped her.
3 am and brandy warmed her belly. Lights winked across the water lapping at the piles under the bridge. She flung her arms wide, giggling: “iconic Titanic!” And then, “look out world, here I come!”
An urgent rush, and the explosive release into light. She blinked, bawled. Hands wrapped her in towels, faces loomed. Later, pigtails with red ribbons, the squeak of chalk on blackboard and sandwiches, hopscotch. Yay, London! The VW combi.
She found Dermott, wicked smile, enchanting accent. Gorgeous Dermott, bloody Dermott and that skanky slut – how could this be …
Nine seconds later black water enveloped her.
No comments:
Post a Comment