‘Mum?’
Lou hadn’t been round this way before. Her mum had implied, no, had stated, that this was a place where only bad girls came. The colour hit her like Dorothy arriving in Oz: sparkles and flashing neon. And the noise assaulted her ears, yes, assaulted: insistent, burrowing deep without her permission. Cinema smells, too, turned up to eleven, the plastic scent of hot dogs, the sweetness of popcorn, the tang of something she didn’t want to classify. She felt her heart beat faster not knowing if it was panic, this was why she had been warned, or pleasure.
‘Mum?’ Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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