She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. Lucy felt a finger tap her on the bra strap as she observed Michelle chatting with yet another passing group of people. She fell into another slumber, one which was more like a blackout. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. It was the first day you kissed me, under the willows, coming into Veraz.
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