..and thinking of that man, man miles away, with the dark eyes, the swept back black hair, and the harmonica in his pocket.

The walls of her bedroom were painted a bruising purple, her ceiling and doors a bold watermelon pink, and through the filmy violet netting that laced down from her window, she could see the leaves of trees, and bits of blue sky. She quickly pulled the pink velvet curtains across, cutting off all sight of the sky.

She was alone, alone and aching.