The book of Living And Dying (2005)
“She’d snuck through the window, not out of fear of her mother, but in honour of him. He was there with her, the smell of him, his hair, his skin, the sound of his voice. Her mind danced like a honeybee when she thought of the night, their reflected images stretching endlessly before them like an augury. She wanted to be with him, wanted to feel his hands against her skin again.
If only she hadn’t drunk so much. She massaged her forehead methodically then reached for the aspirin bottle. She would have to take a double dose today. One for the drink and one for her old friend, the migraine. But she didn’t regret a minute of it. After all, she’d been so out of it she’d managed to climb into bed without thinking about John’s ghost. For that, she was grateful. There had been one moment, though, when she’d thought she saw something move across the threshold of her room. But she hadn’t allowed herself to care. And if it was John, he had thankfully left her alone. In the comfort of her bed, wi...th the sunlight streaming through the window and the scent of Michael’s skin on her own, she felt she could be hopeful.MoreLess
If only she hadn’t drunk so much. She massaged her forehead methodically then reached for the aspirin bottle. She would have to take a double dose today. One for the drink and one for her old friend, the migraine. But she didn’t regret a minute of it. After all, she’d been so out of it she’d managed to climb into bed without thinking about John’s ghost. For that, she was grateful. There had been one moment, though, when she’d thought she saw something move across the threshold of her room. But she hadn’t allowed herself to care. And if it was John, he had thankfully left her alone. In the comfort of her bed, wi...th the sunlight streaming through the window and the scent of Michael’s skin on her own, she felt she could be hopeful.MoreLess
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