by Eleanor Radford
She didn’t look quite as beautiful upside down. I awoke, flat on my back, to the sight of her flipped visage looming. As she stood at my head, her eyes roamed and took in the bottles and ashes all around. “You never cease to disappoint me,” she said, before she slammed the door and started the engine in the icy street below. I slowly rose from the carpet and stood unsteadily upright. You disappoint me too: I believed you’d always be that beautiful, from any angle.
Eleanor Radford is a writer living in Vancouver, BC.