The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. He was by no means certain that she would not in fact attempt to blow off his head as she had threatened. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. Wary they might be. Lucy felt a finger tap her on the bra strap as she observed Michelle chatting with yet another passing group of people. They all stay!” “And you yourself?” Brendon laughed.
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