Simon Burns stood in the garden, the five buckets of frogs stood at his
feet. The courtesan at the window oozed jealousy, eyes stabbing like
knives as the other woman scurried away, handbag swinging. He guessed
that like everyone all she really wanted was to find love. He could
sense her portentous determination even across the lilac garden. As he
glanced back at her, he saw she was now down to her brassiere, wine cup
in hand, but the peacock display in her hair remained untouched. A petal
brushed he cheek and he hummed "are you lonesome tonight?"
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