I was under no illusion about the incense. The scent of pot was still there, just now intermingled with a heady patchouli. We wouldn't be fooling anyone.

The stereo lights though. They were the illusion, the soft blue and green bars that rose and fell with the barely audible music.


..she would never say where she came from.. yesterday don't matter if it's gone..


His cigarette glowed in the dark, red ember the only tell-tale marker of motion. He sat so far away.

"I was born on a Tuesday", I remarked. To him, to Mick and Keith, to the smoky room, to no one in particular.

Whisper of an exhale. "Is that so? Full of grace then, aren't you?"

"So they say."

Slight chuckle. "I don't know what day I was born on but I'm certain my mum would tell you I was full of something."

I smirked into the shadows.


..while the sun is bright or in the darkest night, no one knows.. she comes and goes..


I reached for my wine glass, surprised to find it was full. I took a sip, registering in some deeper, more sober part of my brain that I was missing the true taste of this chardonnay. My lips still had a hint of salt to them and I briefly wondered if I should feel shame about that.

His invisible hand brought the cigarette to his invisible lips, the red glowing a bright orange for a second or two.

"My mom only ever called me names when she was drunk. Or when we played Yahtzee."

"Poor loser?"

"Yeah, but it only ever made us laugh."

"That's all right, then. Mum called me every name there was, though it only happened after my dad had gone. She was pretty sure I'd be just like him."


..don't question why she needs to be so free.. she'll tell you it's the only way to be..


"Was she right?" Another long, slow sip and my glass was almost empty. I was definitely not tasting it.

"Right? About me being like him?" A brief rustle of clothes, I assume he's shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't know him."

"Mmm." I lit a cigarette and felt the instantaneous cough reflex.

"And you? Are you like your mum?"


..she just can't be chained to a life where nothing's gained or nothing's lost.. but such a cost..


"No." Louder than I meant.

I could hear his grin. "Easy now, blossom. Was only a question."

"I know." I exhaled slowly. "But I'm not like her."

"It happens, you know.." sounds of stretching.. "no matter what we do, we sometimes just end up like them."

"I know." I smiled around my smoke rings, not able to see them but figuring they were perfect. "But I'm not like her."

"Ok then. Tell me how you're not like her."

I peered into the shadows that were his voice, "this sounds like therapy, Quinn."


.."there's no time to lose", I heard her say.. "cash your dreams before they slip away"..


"No, not therapy. I just want to know something more about you."

I snickered. "After what we just did, you want to know more about me and my mother?"

"Uh huh, nice try luv. I'm kinky, not a fucking pervert. Forget about it." I could hear the sounds of him standing and then there, where the shadows were lighter, I could make out his torso. A shoulder. He was pulling his shirt off over his head. I licked my lips and took a slow drag off my smoke, not willing to blink and lose him.

He made his way around the coffee table, reaching out with his fingers for the edge of the couch. He slouched in beside me, took the wine glass from my hand and drained it before returning it to the table. "Good stuff." Mumbled an agreement and crushed my smoke into the overflowing ashtray. I sat back, feeling his hand at the back of my neck. Fingertips tracing tiny circles under my earlobe, across my collar bone, his breath heavy against my cheek. With a murmured sigh, I relaxed into the back of the couch when I felt his hand sliding up the inside of my thigh.


..goodbye ruby tuesday, who could hang a name on you.. when you change with every new day, still I'm gonna miss you..