Antiques are examples of the good life returning to be made useful again, and timing is

everything. The smell of age, wood polish, shellac and thinner.

 

“You understand what I mean.”

 

Pearls behind a display, wedding rings, electric guitars.

 

“So what you’re telling me is she’s worthless.”

 

“I never said that love. What I meant to say was that I don’t have any customers who would be interested. Nothing personal.”

 

The fine hands of a jeweller, a watchmaker, a thief; sleeves rolled up and taking stock. A practical man.

 

“Nothing personal?”

 

“That’s right. Take her to Sotheby’s or something, give them a call.”

 

Enough for a place to stay, a decent meal, maybe that place on George Street. Cheap but decent.

 

“Just for me and Steph.”

 

“She your kid then, Steph.”

 

“Out front. Right there.”

 

She pointed; needed a manicure.

 

“Nice watch. I’ll give you a hundred.”

 

“It was a present.”
 

 
A mountain range, with white caps like snow cones. They are so sweet and delicious.

 

“You're staring at it.”

 

“I know Steph, it's a calendar. I’ve got to think. It’s nice to be here don’t you think?"

 

“I’m sleepy. Can we go somewhere tomorrow?”

 

A budget hotel in the middle of the city with share everything.

 

“This is today’s date, so…and this is where we’ve been, so to speak.”

 

Snow helps the mind, you dwell on it, visualise, and soon you’re asleep.

 

“So to speak,” Steph said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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