A day of remembrance
24 degrees. 9.36 a.m. A lawn mower's cry. The streets are busy and the lovers are still in bed.
She fumbles with the knobs. Where she is from, everything is at a push of a button. Buffed and polished from her crown down to her toes, she escapes in a veil of vapour. A damp sea sponge, wrinkled gift wrap and the lingering scent of bitter lemon.
Over he who slumbers, she leans silently and whispers deep into a dream...
"My dearest, it is a day of remembrance."