Too Late For Regret, Mr. Hayes

sheets, the expensive

throbbing reminder, but

ection was

window, looking out

when he he

s a mask of

awake.

if I was okay.

pset. You need to

thrown in front of a

gister as anger anymore, jus

wnstairs. Don't k

ft, but the com

rty, years ago, a

illed red wine down the fron

abbed my champagne flute and poured i

arming smile for the onlookers,

ed, a tinkling,

ttered, amused b

ere, dripping

arly on. I

h w

my grandmother's locket, a family h

better on her anyway, S

n, chipped away at whatever

fear, had eroded int

left was the antic

n," I said,

out of bed, my l

y-nin

ought