Low Low High

I’m on Prince gliding through stars, meaning to go home. Home means dinner which would be wasted on me tonight. I know I’ll end up chasing food round my plate. Smouldering hot skanky boy. Ugly mutt skanky boy. Which is worse? They’re both the same really. Wish I had a lesson with Cain tonight; unfortunately for me he is busy. I let Prince fly wherever he pleases. Perhaps he will fly me somewhere interesting.

Dover again. Way out. Deposits me on the edge of a cove. I take off my boots, roll up my trousers, dangle my feet into the ocean. Cold. I let all the vent up hurt leak out in one go so no one will see. Only Prince, who sits next to me, observing with his forever flickering raptor eyes.