With the hound
On the floor
Next to the fire

Hearts of space


She pulled herself out of bed, careful with her aching head, moving slowly around the clothes on the floor.

She leaned on the bathroom sink, poured herself another drink, here’s to another night on the road.


She tried to avoid her reflection in the mirror. “It’s not magic,” she had told him. “It’s called physics.” She tied her greasy hair into a knot at the base of her neck. It was going to be a long night.


She yawned slightly and pulled up the collar on her sweater and buttoned it quickly, missing a few holes, so that it hung at an angle. “We’re not mercenaries,” he said. “I don’t think they’re paying,” she replied.