Almost dawn, another night wasted. She burns with the question. But will his answer, seized in crimson fingertips, be anything more than the echo of her heels on wet asphalt after the rain?

Queen of the hill when the world is in a bar, she wipes the spit off her lips, shakes the bottle, hears the swish ‘n rattle and says, “keep ’em coming, baby”, until chlorine’s in her nose. She’s submerged and no one knows the underground wonderland Alice hasn’t seen.

And that’s how she likes it.