Happy birthday,’ I say. She turns around and taking the rose from my hands looks at me. For a second there is silence. Her lips quiver and break in...o a smile. Slowly the smile is replaced by a chuckle, which turns into peals of laughter. ‘This is pathetic,’ she says, ‘even a loser like you should know better.’ Her eyes are no longer soft. They seemed cold, frightening somehow. ‘Who are you anyway, I don’t even know you?’ I try to tell her, tell her of the times we have bumped into each. She looked as much as it was possible to be out of place. In fact, she looked like a fucking whore on the pull, but a good looking whore at that.We managed to get each others names. Who ever heard a whore called Abigail? She was juiced, her dilated eyes jumped all over the place, never settling and the huge vodka she had been nursing slipped down her throat like it was no more than water. I bought her another which didn’t last too long either.Thinking that she ought to be out of the joint, I. More

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