Today’s 6 is a continuation from last week’s Six Sentence Stories sampling from my w-i-p, Annaliese’s Dream. Last we knew, Annaliese found out the death of her fiancé was not a fatal accident but in fact, murder…
It was 4 am, a shot glass lay overturned on the coffee table, Patrón bottle nearby, the ashtray filled with cigarettes. I don’t smoke.
I hadn’t been sleeping well since Mr. White and Mr. Orange paid me a visit, sharing with me their dossier on my late fiancé, surefire fodder for the “surreal” file.
Mr. White and Mr. Orange – nostalgia opened the door of the yellow top, and I crawled in, a willing passenger, meter running double time.
Ian and I were huge Tarantino fans long before we met, it was one of those “hey, you too?!”, that and the way we annotated life with music and film references.
We shared wavelength, consciousness, “brainwave synchronicity” is what neuro-scientists now call it, the new-fangled, novel term to describe soul mates.