page-97
FIRST HINT OF BUSHFIRE
Things not quite right.
Slower breathing and downcast.
Eyes.
For no apparent reason.
Conversation non-existant.
Contact-Shut-Off.
Thought vague.
I'm in the darkest alley really.
But no-one will ever believe.
It's still light here.
the steady flow of murmurs.
the silver clink of glasses.
gas Bar-B-Qs
fading light and dripping smiles.
God.
I feel like a raincoat.
on a camping expedition. |