‘Always forgetting thing’s..’ My mother used to say.I looked at my toned and pale body in the bathroom Mirror. My long auburn hair was like fire...and my skin was like milk. My 34DD’s was not the biggest pair of tit’s for my age. But if you were a 21 year old single waitress from England you would think 38GG’s were tiny.I Heard a dark chuckled from behind me and turned sharply and saw nothing. I wiped my forehead, setting my path from the bathroom to the bed. I turned the light out and sprinted. Since the start of the Irish Missile Crisis, the news had been full of what to do. Hourly public information films were similarly, ridiculously, overly optimistic. Stay indoors. Close the curtains. Huddle under the table. Cover your eyes. Don't drink the rainwater. Social media had been equally awash, yet the advice there was more pragmatic: you are about to die a horrible death, so fuck. Simply fuck. And don't waste words. There won't be time for social niceties or polite pleasantries. Just. More

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