Close, But No Cigar…

I am at a large party hosted by the Bennett family, (Surprisingly I am containing myself, don’t ask me how). There is a noblewoman there, visiting from town with a large group of musicians and other people of culture. The woman is having a thinly veiled affair with one of the musicians.

He plays and sings a new composition laughingly at the piano as she looks on enraptured, “How I love my little white deer,” and her accompanying giggles and shy aversion of the eyes reveal that she herself is the true subject of this secret love song.

As an aside, not ONCE could my brilliantly detailed mind pepper the dream with a single iota of Darcy, it was shameful.

4 thoughts on “Close, But No Cigar…

  1. Pingback: White Hart and the Lake of Silence | Fela 2 Fela

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