Candles in a bathroom! I suspected that Laura was something of a sybarite.
I walked into the room at the end of the hall, which was, as I had correctly guessed, the kitchen.
This room was also full of people and noise, but I could make out black marble work tops, gloss cream cabinets and lots of chrome.
Her home was so... shiny. She was shiny too, her skin, her hair, her shoes, her teeth.
I hadn’t even realized before; I am matte, dull and scuffed.
Feeling the need to escape the noise and heat for a moment, I opened the back door and stepped out onto a patio.
The garden was small and contained little in the way of botanical life, being mostly paved with concrete slabs or covered in slippery decking.
Dusk was falling, but the sky felt small here, and I felt penned in by a high fence which ran on all three sides.
I breathed in, deeply, hoping for cool night air. Instead, my nasal passages were assaulted by tar, nicotine and other poisons.
“Nice night, eh?” said Raymond, loitering unnoticed in the shadows and, just for a change, puffing on a cigarette.
I nodded. “I came out for some fresh air,” he said, without a hint of irony.
“I shouldn’t drink fizz, it knocks me for six.” I realized that I was somewhat discombobulated myself.
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