Their laughter was like the stridulation of the ghosts of grasshoppers.
I need a drink. Now.__fter tossing__ine, throwing__y purse and keys on the couch, I march straight into the kitchen. No more delays; it's time to forget tonight. It__ been yet another night like all the other first dates that never meet a second one. When you begin to lose count, that's when it's really time for a drink.Adrian stands there, leaning against the counter in an unbuttoned dress shirt and dark wash jeans. He glances at me as I walk in. __ow was your date?_ he asks, taking a swig of his scotch.I brush past him on my mission, opening the cupboard and moving a couple bottles around. I reiterate, __ need alcohol.__ut of the corner of my eye, I catch him hiding a smile before he says, __hat bad?__y face twitches as I ignore his line of questioning. It is more like a statement he wants me to clarify, even though he already knows the answer. Instead, I ask, __ have vodka left, don't I?_ I stand on my tiptoes in hopes of spotting something in the very back. Nothing.He waltzes over and looks with me, his chin almost touching my shoulder. __ think you polished that one off after last week's date._ His voice is low right next to my ear, very nearly causing a shiver.
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I need a drink. Now.__fter tossing__ine, throwing__y purse and keys on the couch, I march straight into the kitchen. No more delays; it's time to forget tonight. It__ been yet another night like all the other first dates that never meet a second one. When you begin to lose count, that's when it's really time for a drink.Adrian stands there, leaning against the counter in an unbuttoned dress shirt and dark wash jeans. He glances at me as I walk in. __ow was your date?_ he asks, taking a swig of his scotch.I brush past him on my mission, opening the cupboard and moving a couple bottles around. I reiterate, __ need alcohol.__ut of the corner of my eye, I catch him hiding a smile before he says, __hat bad?__y face twitches as I ignore his line of questioning. It is more like a statement he wants me to clarify, even though he already knows the answer. Instead, I ask, __ have vodka left, don't I?_ I stand on my tiptoes in hopes of spotting something in the very back. Nothing.He waltzes over and looks with me, his chin almost touching my shoulder. __ think you polished that one off after last week's date._ His voice is low right next to my ear, very nearly causing a shiver.
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Just behind his jaw bones a tiny movement was perceptible, like the movement of gills in a fish.
Franklin Fletcher dreamed of luxury in the form of tiger-skins and beautiful women. He was prepared, at a pinch, to forgo the tiger-skins. Unfortunately the beautiful women seemed equally rare and inaccessible. At his office and at his boarding-house the girls were mere mice, or cattish, or kittenish, or had insufficiently read the advertisements.
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There are some young almond tress, which ordinarily look as if drawn by a childish hand. Now, as the wind sets their weak branches gibbering, they seem like shamanistic scratches on the white bone of the brittle bright night.