Lairs

The tiny hammer beat against the bell, like frightened wings. I
twisted in your sour bed sheets as I was vomited from my
dreams. Your arm wrapped around my neck, you fingers hooked
into my hip. You pulled me into you and the bell kept ringing. I
felt your laughter as breath against my ear. I pleaded for it to
stop. It had begun to sound like screaming.

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Design by TYPE Review, (c) 2009, all content (c) original author unless otherwise noted. Glasgow, Feb '09. Glossary, TYPETree