
La Montgolfière
It was ajar. The door. I saw her. Watching me. How many times had she seen it and not said anything? Done anything? Later at dinner her silence persisted. It itched me. Like an old scab. Trying to heal. I couldn’t stop thinking about her eyes watching me. I thought they were wise eyes once. Her big green eyes, the colour of that dirty swimming pool I saw on that movie. Remember? You saw it too. A month later I packed up and left. There were no goodbyes. But she knew I was lea