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A strange cadence, uneasy syllables stumbling over a sloshing…

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A strange cadence, uneasy syllables stumbling over a sloshing beat.

She sounds quite drunk.

She looks out over Novessa -- bleary eyed, searching.

A resonant thud. Heavy bottom glass on desktop.

Of course you do.

Feet swaying gently, a few feet above the ground. The laces of their left shoe have come untied.

This took a very sad turn. It won't be easy to swing it back around.

Life sparkles in death's presence, magnificent and fragile. Draw her close.

Tell her what she means to you.

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You hear her breath so clearly that you feel its phantom on your neck. As far away as ever, and somehow within reach.

So they recommended she be paired with HOPSCOTCH, too.

She makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh.

Our faceless mistress with the wrought iron soul.

Still an act, but neither of you have the script.

One she can't co-sign.

Goosebumps rise on your neck.

But for once it sounds like a prayer.

She wants a lover. She wants you.

You throb at her words. Your heart dances, your nipples ache.

Adoration in every hit.

Reminded of her loss, the liqueur tastes like honeyed grief on her tongue.

The throttle opens. Stand back.

ABSOLUTE HUMILIATION ON THE WORLD-STAGE.

Acid contempt. It melts right through your defences.

It can't be more than a few seconds, but from your perspective an eon passes. Whole civilisations rise and dissolve into the mists of oblivion before she speaks again.

Utterly excruciating, the way these seconds pass.

Her voice sounds distant, like she's already putting down the receiver.

A strange cadence, uneasy syllables stumbling over a sloshing… - ZERO PARADES Checks