![]() ![]() At this time of day, there were incidents of silvery brightness outside, as when it rains and rinses the air of our filth others, twilight snatching them unawares. They met always at the same place and the same time, a quarter after four pm. He would stride, run, lope, finally shuffle towards the end. Her man at first seemed to come from every direction, except hers of course, and sometimes appeared as if by outright magic. She was a handsome creature a beautiful recollection for him. Her makeup was tasteful in another era, she would have been an aristocrat or sovereign. ![]() He could easily spot her golden ear loops, rings, and bracelets, of varying degrees of largeness. Her hair so became her, especially as it was thick and luxuriant. ![]() He fancied once she had retrieved the golden plastic whistle (so she could call him, her lover) which the featured sailor lad had hung around his neck, for the box advertises a toy surprise inside. This woman had hair the colour of that American candy, Cracker Jack. (There was a hint of a smile on his face remembering its unique offensiveness.) Fortunately, it was a glimpse only, it's when he stood that he could see the whole of the travesty. There was but a glimpse of the furniture store sign with colours like that of expelled bodily fluids, either into a tissue or toilet. He had been painting -his drawing table faced corner windows- it was angled to catch the light from both sides in the apartment suite of rooms. And it happened: he saw her again in his mind's eye, a shiny badge, like all the other times before. ![]()
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