So now they lounged in the forward pilotchair, looking through the clear orb of the piscine eye at silvery-clouds of water vapour, and pretended a light, airy tone. "Jean, my beloved, are you well and ready to go?"

This is the story of a coincidence. At any rate I call it a coincidence.

The road where I live is very long and very straight. It's paved with wood and well lighted after dark. The result is that cars and taxis going by during the night... often go quite fast. I don’t blame 'em. They hardly ever wake me unless they stop near the house.

However, about two months ago one did.

But shit Hailey looked good in that dress: dark sequins and holo-vertices, the thin green lines sharp against the sheen of her black skin and juddering with the heavy beats that thumped the air.