Ghost Fish

They lie in bed and wait for the sounds of morning. Bea tells him about the Abacus, the leaning tower of Pisa and the saddle that worms get when they're pregnant. She clears her throat and lights a cigarette. Occasionally she blows a smoke ring. He puts his finger through it.

I'm getting married, he says. Light hits Bea's perfume bottles, reflects back on the wall like ghost fish swimming.

Who to? she asks.

Donny and Marie.

Unfortunately, my boy, you must pick one. She waggles her finger. People don't like the normal order to be disturbed. We are, after all, creatures of habit. Bea drags on her smoke. We are broken records. She holds her finger to her lips. Listen, it's Jean's front door.

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Click.

Feet crunch gravel outside.

Here comes Mr Scale's gate.

Slam.

Bad morning.

Slam again.

Forgot his car keys. Every morning he forgets his car keys. Bea sighs and stubs out her smoke. Her face changes to a smile. He stares at her teeth, a crooked row of yellow marble. Breakfast? she says. She climbs out of bed and fish slip up the walls. He tries to catch them with his hands.