Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Le boudoir de la femme
“I thought I was through with this day. All I wanted to do was unplug the phone, pour myself a bourbon whiskey, glance through the clippings concerning that particular case, just to check, and switch off the lights except for the old lamp on my desk. Maybe I’ll fall asleep right here, in my office. So there I was, sitting alone in the feeble light and silence, when she came in. Annie. She did not knock before she entered the room but quietly closed the door and turned towards me. I was barely able to see her, but I could imagine her large eyes, her smile. She whispered, ethereal, “Hello”, her voice mingling with the plumes of smoke. The night had just begun...”
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1 comment:
Intriguing prose. Annie sounds hot -- like Hope Sandoval. If Hope Sandoval ever entered into my presence I would swoon and crack my head open -- and a bunch of little Hopes would crawl out.
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