7
Truth Hurts – Bullet For My Valentine
He came in, and I closed the street door.
After much fro-ing and to-ing, and after you-ing, I led the way up to the flat and parked him on the sofa in the living room. The room still smelt sour from the previous evening even though I’d left the windows open when I went to bed, but there had been no breeze, just the oppressive remains of the day’s heat. There were empty glasses and a full ashtray on the coffee table which I’d left for the morning, but then I hadn’t expected an early wake up call. I didn’t bother to apologise for the mess, just loaded a tray with everything and dumped it in the kitchen next door. I went back and asked if he wanted coffee, though I didn’t care if he did or not, but I was dying for a cup. All very civilised, but I cou
