Archives for December 9, 2004

For Dorrito’s Every Flavour Mood Beans.

*****

Cheerful

Sometimes he studies a strand of hair, certain he could see through it if the light hit just so. She’s transparent all over, eyes and skin, and he thinks she must be descended from faeries, though he’s never seen one himself. The soft hum near his ear is not quite tuneful and she nips his nose, smiling. “Silly Neville,” she says, in reference to nothing at all. When she takes his hand, his feet feel lighter.

Later in the greenhouse he sings to himself, verses of no shape or melody, gliding past the Flutterby Bush with steps made of air.