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the French saw nothing peculiar about it. They were not curious as to how Laure chose to live and, if they wished to eat a meal together, they met at a restaurant.
She gave it a final blast from the dryer, threaded drop pearl earrings into her ears and inspected her nail varnish, an exciting dark red that required upkeep. But, the colour of riot and sex, it was worth it.
Not knowing was a hydra-headed, tormenting adversary. It never admitted defeat, it almost never retreated. It bided its time in the rock pools and under the stones of the mind and spirit, waiting on the turn of the tide to race back in.
