Falling Sky
“That’s what happens the moment I step into his apartment. If I thought Dylan’s house in the country was impressive, this place blows the expensive pile of bricks out of the water. Excuse my naivety but I never imagine apartments to be two storey; apparently, upstairs is called a mezzanine but whatever the hell it is, the space has floor to ceiling windows stretching across the whole wall, giving sweeping views of the Thames.
Having walked across plush brown carpets and around furniture that’s so expensive I wouldn’t want to touch anything, I gape at the panorama, reminded of canvas pictures of skylines on the wall in my dentist’s reception area. Dylan stands beside me, hands tucked beneath his arms as if this is the only way he can stop himself from touching me.
“A bit different to Cornwall,” I tell him.
“More snow, less beach?”
“You know what I mean, look at this place.”
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