“Ignore it, ignore it!” “Nah, it could be important. Sorry, give me a second,” she apologised as she pressed a button. “Hello?” she breat...lessly gasped into the mouthpiece. “Maz, it’s me, Curly! Listen, what time are you gonna get here? Hey, you sound out of breath, did I interrupt something?” She giggled, “Have you decided what you are going to wear yet? Are you going for classy or tarty?” “Oh hi, CG! Sorry, I was kind of in the middle of erm, something… Hey, I can do classy AND tarty, as. Fear kept her there a moment, and then concern for her mother made her creep out of the closet on stocking feet. She remembered the smell of cinnamon toast, the feel of the wall on her hand, cool and rough, as she made her way down the hall toward the living room. She remembered the angle of the doorway to the kitchen and standing next to the sofa that her mother had been asleep on less than an hour ago. Susan could see only their heads as they lay on the faded, dirty linoleum, his face. More

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