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Thursday 21 February 2013

The Night Before

She was trying to piece together the events of the night before.  They were there, the memories, but in fragments, not in order.  More like a patchwork quilt, all over the place, a mess. 

Very clear, bright even, was the euphoria of getting ready.  Reflections in mirrors.  Singing along to tunes.  Chucking dresses, tops, skirts all ahoo over the bed until she'd got the picture that she'd made of herself in her head.  Teetering heels.  Slap, on.  Pouting and dropping an A-bomb of perfume.

The noise of pub was there in a pocket in her mind.  Bright but rippling like a shiny pebble dropped in a stream.  The movement of people jostling, rushing, slouching, gesticulating.  The sound. Those bits, they were in her mind, there or there abouts.

Drinks.  Yeah, there were plenty of those.  Chasers.  Laughing really loudly, scarlet mouth stretched in a permanent O.  Swearing and arguing was flitting about in there somewhere but the memory was getting darker, less secure.  Was there drink slicked? Sick? Why did her heart hurt?



Time up.
Inspiration:   It just came out tonight.  I just thought of an image and wrote.

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I would really welcome constructive comments or perhaps even some inspiration. To be honest , I would settle for some encouragement.