(estimated reading time: 32 seconds)

Lying in bed with her eyes closed, she could tell it was light by the dancing shapes behind her eyelids. She opened her eyes and could sense the iris closing instantly, like a clam or a mouse trap. She rolled over to her side and could see how the patterns on the curtain resembled faces seen en profil. The open window let through a slight breeze causing the faces act like an entourage at a cocktail party, exchanging niceties and flirtatious winks as acid gossip rolls from forked tongues; the chinks of the ice cubes in martini glasses echoing the guilty pleasure that comes from other people’s misfortune.