. . it’s not Suzie whose with me, it’s my Anne. The woman of my dreams, the one whom I met, fell in love with, and married. The one whom I had to ...et go of so long ago. The shape of her hips, the curve of her shoulders, the firmness of her breasts. My Anne. It takes an incredible effort to stop, to pull away, but I manage. My heart seizes, painfully tight. “A drink?” Breathing heavy, her mouth falls open, weakness in her legs makes her cling to me. She finds the strength to smile and drop. Mary and John invited some people back to hers to have a spliff or 2. Seven of us piled into a taxi and went to hers. We the all piled into Mary’s room so we didn’t wake her house mate up and passed the spliff round, I’m not a heavy smoker these days and it went straight to my head, one of my friends helped to the bathroom downstairs where I must have passed out.I woke up about an hour and a half later was a bit groggy but otherwise ok. I assumed that people were still around so I slowly made. More

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