Blue skies and no cloud in sight, I look down at my feet and there they are, in my black stockings but, where are my shoes? I can feel the pavement, but it’s cold not warm as you would expect. I am smiling, I can feel it. I’m laughing to, I can hear it. As I climb in the car I look around, there you are, and also there they are. The car is black, and so is your suit, and . . . all our clothes. I am wearing black, that’s not unusual.

There you are, but your hair is different, slightly longer and less . . . perfect. You look good, are we together?

We go to dinner with your friends but I don’t know what we are having I can’t see the dishes. I look around, at the round tables with white linens, and the people chatting and laughing and I see you smiling at me, and I see . . . me, laughing as you touch my leg under the table.

I am wearing a black dress, that is unusual, and pantyhose, even more unusual.

You laugh, which I have only seen you do when you have  had a few drinks.

We behave with the familiarity that comes from sharing a bed.


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