Cracks

The dark is the dark. The song is the song.

The shadows were boiling to midday when Lolly Robson found me by the river, my feet dangling over the bank, not touching earth so I could get some peace. He grinned, that crooked stunning smile, and spat a wasteful spit on the ground like it was a challenge, like everything for Lolly was a challenge to be spat out. "Jean. I got need of you."

"Yes I see that," I said in my old voice. The voice that isn't mine, but that's all me, which you'd...