All of a sudden she cuts into a barely visible lay by. Not quite an emergency stop but close enough to increase the heart rate. Before I can confront her and find out the reason behind this erratic manoeuvre which she will put down to, as living by impulse, she’s out of the car. Leaving the car door wide open as she gallops thigh high into the snow as if she was rushing headlong into warm tropical water to splash and cavort. Snow, snow, snow. And she scoops the snow into cupped hands and vigorously rubs the powdery ice onto her face.
I lean over the driver’s seat and shout out that I need coffee and something to eat for breakfast.
Baby you always need coffee. Monomaniac. I need some too but I want to get purified. Free snow saves hot shower water.
Fuck! Fuck! Once she stopped somewhere in the Swiss Alps or maybe it was France or Italy. Wherever. She films herself in a t-shirt doing deep breathing exercises in sub zero temperatures. Then she uploads it onto YouTube and sends me a link.
I knew when she got back into the car she would put her hands down the back of my neck. Then she asked why we had a Christmas card from Gracelands. Previous owners of the apartment I guess I replied.
Over coffee and the most expensive chocolate torte the world has ever known she asked me which I preferred, Nu descendant un escalier or Frau die Treppo herabgehend.
I replied , depends on who designed the heels she was wearing.