‘To stopping the clock.’ An odd phrase, but he understood what she meant: the constant race, the urge to keep going and going, because to stop would be too painful, and would mean looking over your shoulder – no, he never did that. He wasn’t absolutely sure he wanted to do it now, but he did know he wanted to hear Vera’s story. This brittle, beautiful woman, who partied until dawn because she could not sleep, who lived such a shallow, empty life, because she was hollow. He wanted to know what had scooped her out. He wanted to understand what made her. He wanted to know if the emptiness around which that lovely shell existed was the same emptiness he harboured. She had finished her wine in one long swallow. He did the same. The bottle had probably cost the equivalent of a week’s pay in a shipyard, but it had about as much effect on him as a glass of tepid water. Vera stared into the fire. He waited, angling himself so he could see her face without distracting her, though when she spoke, she turned directly towards him.
What do You think about The Couple In The Dream Suite?
