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See grainy, textured landscapes of roughened gorse and heather washed by an all-encompassing misty drizzle, the wind piercing my threadbare wrap dissolving the marrow of my elephant bones.

The countdown had begun; music span from the speakers, people jumping up and down shouting out each number, thirty-nine, thirty-eight, thirty-seven, music beating out seconds.

She looked over her shoulder as she walked away, then she stepped through the barriers and past a security guard. And in that instant her sea green eyes caught mine and glistened under the cold neon lights.

They came over together, grabbing another chair for our table, and then they sat down. And she looked pleased to see me, but her friend looked at me with contempt.

I cast myself before her, thin feathery pencil strokes suggesting fleeting glances, eyes half closed as I feel her soft powder face on mine. Her lips breathe on my lips; cushioned pink, they have the taste of almond.