He sat at the edge of the bed, naked and full of anticipation. She was topless, her full breasts swinging as she moved. She was beautiful, with short, dark hair done in a pixie cut. She bent down to take his penis in her hands, but he stopped her. The woman took a cigarette from the pack and put it Read On.

I touch her face, in the photograph. I have managed to never fold it, but of course nothing lasts forever, just like she said. A sound emerges from the speakers and I review the handwritten tracklisting; there is some quite up to date stuff here. I must have been reminiscing over her a lot more recently than I remember. This would be about right. I picture a detached house on a tree lined avenue. The house next door to ours had been empty for years.

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