If Your Memory Serves You Well

Bond had never been sure which view he like more; the one from the night time, or the one from the morning after. The nights lent themselves to shadows slanting across stretches of smooth skin, hands tangling in sheets and half admitted names taken on broken breaths. The nights are sin, and glamour, and that singular beauty that connects every human being on this filthy, dirty planet.

No, Bond prefers the view from the morning after. When everything becomes clean again, and the make up and masks are washed away. When lies stay in dreams, and reality comes with waking up. Bond suspects that people are not unlike an etch-a-sketch. The lines build up over the day, and sleep shakes them free. Some people, of course, are more memorable than others. The ones that stand out are those who shed the lies like a old coat, too big, too hot.