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Don My Fantasy Frock
The key of a good gin and tonic is to start with the limes. A heavy globular lime with a few yellow hints on the rind and a thin line of black up by the stem nub. Any riper and the pulp begins to turn to glucose, sugars and water. Any rawer and the juice bed hasn't fully swelled the tiny pulp chambers, leaving a thin cull. Always use a top quality gin. Cheap gin leaves an oily smear on your palette and give you a 17th century blindness.
She was standing at the subway platform, her black dress ending in tatters above her knee-high white socks. A thin worm of red blood wormed down her right inner knee bend and met the top of the sock, flashing crimson and then black in the material.
Lime juice has an abnormally high level of Lysine for a citrus fruit. A deficiency in lysine can have the following symptoms: tiredness, inability to concentrate.
Subway station lights turn everyone a different shade of yellow, either a ruddy topaz or a sickly lemon or a pastel hue. It makes reds go brown as soon as they are under the beam and cuts off bodyparts swathed in black. She wore a black leather jacket over the tattered party dress.
Irritability, bloodshot eyes, retarded growth
There was a light blue line of a bra strap cutting across her shoulder and disappearing in the negative space created by the jacket. The leather was so dulled that the yellow lights didn't even glare at all. Her boots were laced up mid-calf, with checkered shoelaces and dabs of green paint spackling the left toe.
Hair loss, anemia.
She saw my staring finally, looking up from the bag she was fumbling with. Eyes washed white by the lights, under a fading cherry red dye job. Not even very cherry anymore; more like the skin of a royal gala apple, streaks of red and yellow and pinking edges. Her thin lips turned up and she drew four fingertips up her torso to her breastbone.
Reproductive problems.
Her ring finger was caressing the knob of her collarbone when the subway rushed in. Stopped. Opened. Closed. Left. Aborted a moment in a yellow lit tile cave. Took me later, sweeping up the emotional garbage.
Gin and tonic. It's important to start with the lime
She was standing at the subway platform, her black dress ending in tatters above her knee-high white socks. A thin worm of red blood wormed down her right inner knee bend and met the top of the sock, flashing crimson and then black in the material.
Lime juice has an abnormally high level of Lysine for a citrus fruit. A deficiency in lysine can have the following symptoms: tiredness, inability to concentrate.
Subway station lights turn everyone a different shade of yellow, either a ruddy topaz or a sickly lemon or a pastel hue. It makes reds go brown as soon as they are under the beam and cuts off bodyparts swathed in black. She wore a black leather jacket over the tattered party dress.
Irritability, bloodshot eyes, retarded growth
There was a light blue line of a bra strap cutting across her shoulder and disappearing in the negative space created by the jacket. The leather was so dulled that the yellow lights didn't even glare at all. Her boots were laced up mid-calf, with checkered shoelaces and dabs of green paint spackling the left toe.
Hair loss, anemia.
She saw my staring finally, looking up from the bag she was fumbling with. Eyes washed white by the lights, under a fading cherry red dye job. Not even very cherry anymore; more like the skin of a royal gala apple, streaks of red and yellow and pinking edges. Her thin lips turned up and she drew four fingertips up her torso to her breastbone.
Reproductive problems.
Her ring finger was caressing the knob of her collarbone when the subway rushed in. Stopped. Opened. Closed. Left. Aborted a moment in a yellow lit tile cave. Took me later, sweeping up the emotional garbage.
Gin and tonic. It's important to start with the lime
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