There are things I haven’t told you. I wander these streets my head in the clouds and my feet barely on the ground… Rain pours heavily and my hair is sticking to my face. My coat soaked and yet my throat as parched as the desert at high noon.

I stumble into a bar in the darkest of night and order a scotch – neat! The redhead that serves me bring back faintly vivid memories of a blonde I once knew. Her shoulder length hair draped over a bright purple low cut top. Cleavage like mountains.

The bar as quiet as the night herself and the lights as dim as the ones that light my heart. I take off my coat and drape it over the bar and I can’t help but sense the love with which the coat clings on to the bar is if so frightened of falling – perhaps in love. Why did no one bother to tell it that it is not the falling but that sudden stop that will kills!

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