The cawing of a big, black crow awoke me early the next morning, but I remained still, pretending to be asleep. I didnt want to see Ibrahim in the light of day, and I didnt want to make more small talk. I felt hunger pains through the remnants of champagne and cognac from the night before. I wondered why I hadnt eaten more, feeling silly about having been so insecure about my culinary etiquette.Numb and void of emotion, I remained in a state of suspended animation reliving the events of our night of passion. The night before, I pictured silhouettes of angels dancing upon the ceiling in the moonlight, not disconnected bodies lying beneath the covers at a loss for words. Samantha Hart, Blind Pony: As True A Story As I Can Tell

Blind Pony by Samantha Hart