Illiterarty.com Book reviews and blogs by Bridget

I keep my head down as I walk along, and it feels like I'm in a black and white movie, travelling lack-lustrely in the same direction as everyone else on the street as though we are a dull shoal of fish in blacks and greys.

Sitting at the oak table, staring down at his spotted red tie with his knees pressed together and his hands slippery. There's muttering around the room, the whispering of chair wheels and the creaking of stiff joints, a synthesis of old men, money and expensive suits.

I loosen my suspender and slide my device for devious journalists over my tweed skirt and onto my lap.

When I wake under a laughable cliche of starched white sheets for the same day in a row I realise my recovery is not complete by any stretch of the elastic nightgown although my operation is complete and a success.

Imitation vanilla essence;
gun powder, thingumies and lint.

She wears a deadpan expression, maybe sultry, maybe smoky, maybe wistful, maybe bored.

Chemical extraction in a filthy rental, smoke blue walls and shattered cold windows blacked out by sooty towels.

The ocean heaves lethargically, restless and sad with unbearable tight tears.

Run. Open the door, slam it shut, run.

The old man. In the corner, all the sure signs of a consumate smoker painted plain as fragile grey skin on his face, sipping a beer and looking hangdog and blank at the same time.

Behind the expensive oak paneling, a dazzle of diamonds taut with anticipation lay in wait.

The scent of eau de cologne wisps the air, cycling through the vents and ducts and secret places.

She sits opposite me, belligerent, narrow-eyed, slumped over.

His face drops like a bloodhound, sagging through the chin, slack with pain.

You creep, insidiously, as I sleep, carried like algal bloom on a polluted tired tide.

On a knife-edge.

The concierge, sharply dressed, raps the door, gift in hand.

Tough tattoos, spiky jewelery, cracked teeth, stale breath, a raised eyebrow, a broken fist.

She tucks her hair up under the her tiara, and lets the ladies fuss around her makeup.