Fay’s Saturday afternoon was made up of two car chases, one romantic idyll, a bag of flour, two l****s of milk, sliced cheese on toast on an exotic island in the middle of the Caribbean, a loaf of bread, a lettuce, six tomatoes, a distant dream of flying into a silent night, and a tired argument with the girl who checked out the groceries. This girl was far too awake for her own good and wore a label saying “Hi, I’m…” Fay wanted to dream about that strange lack of name, but no-one should be that alert, so she simply paid for her goods and walked home.
Her slow stroll home included another car chase, not noticing the red lights and almost getting run over, a careful mental exercise where she pictured her dream hero, then at least six scenarios where she could be carried off by him. A block
