It was wrenched away from Melusine’s clutching hands. John sat pensively in the back of his best friend's mother's minivan, piloted by his best friend Mark. "Don't think to deceive me by your false pretences. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. I dined with a friend and went to the ‘Unusual. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. "Iss, Massa.
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