I ascend the stairs of Curtin House and and this is Cookie and that is The Toff In Town and this is Dot Comme and the P.A.M Store and Metropolis which is closed for Sunday and now this is Reina which is newly opened and Sibling Architecture and I see the DOT COMME COLLECTION and now I come upon Saloon which I enter apprehensively.

And in that murky teacup light, she kisses me, her bottom lip above mine. The clamouring of our two living hearts and the shaking of my hands.

And Kimmel laughed, looking into the lens, at a joke that had been made before the television was switched on. The guest, who I didn’t recognise, laughed along too, prompted by Kimmel. I changed channels, too quickly to understand anything.

She arrived smoking a cigarette, smacking her lips to salve the caustic aftertaste of the butt-end of an American Spirit. I could call her lithe, I did. She had the air of being there, all the time she was successfully justifying her presence.