HEARTBREAK AND ART“Daisy, Daisy—can you let me in?”
The knock on the door was gentle, three
soft taps. Daisy ignored it.
“Please, love. I’ve had this idea, and I want to talk to you about it. Get
your advice.”
Daisy was lying on her bed listening to
music. She’d played a few different CDs now, singing along when the lyrics
struck her as particularly relevant. That wasn’t often. It seemed singers and
musicians didn’t write about what you felt like when you discovered your
boyfriend of the past eight months was gay,
and in love with his best friend—the best friend who was now dead.
She kept chopping and changing tracks, but
no-one sang about her situation. The best she could get were lines here and
there that spoke of great unhappiness.
Dread Other Girl
mocked her. As well as
