I'm ready. I'm ready to breathe. To breathe without the all too familar guilt that poors out of my smile. Will you have me?
These words seemed to neglect staying put inside the comfortable warmth that is my mind. Instead pursuing the open ears of a petite woman with striking features.
"Yes, Mr. Vinyl, I am prepared to take you under my wing. With pay of course."
The way my name rolled off the tip of her tounge forced me to question the irony in my sir name. Me, such a musically ignorant man, with "Vinyl" for a last name. I prefered the silence. During my quaint revalation, the woman turned to enter a pleasantly dim lighted room. The way the light fixtures played upon her perfectly rounded bum, was almost orgasmic.
"You may adress me as Miss Devney. Of course for the comfort of your corrupted soul, I will also answer to Bolivia."
Her words were simple.
However, I haven't decided whether or not to be offended by the whole "corrupted soul" thing. A simple head nod was all my body would produce. I watched as she made her way towards a whimsical desk towering with folders and paper.
In all the madness there lay a small, granny smith apple.
Then all of a sudden I vanish from reality.
