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The Flask
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Год написания книги
2018
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“Last night,” I say, suddenly angry, “there was a howl, a terrible, terrible sobbing howl. Didn’t you hear it?”
“Jess love, it was a difficult night. You were tossing and turning. I know – I peeked in on you. I think you must have been dreaming.”
Dreaming?
I never actually saw the flask go black, did I? I never saw it pulse. When I did look at it, when light finally spilt into the room, it was just glassy, colourless, ordinary.
Though it had been blue. Fizz-heart, sky-happy blue. I definitely saw that.
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