They almost fall out in his face and his eyes are fixed on them. She walks over to the kettle and his eyes follow her. With a guilty look he looks at ...e and I grin at him. He blushes prettily. There is a bulge in his lycra shorts."Lovely, isn't she?" I ask him. He turns to look at her as she stands at the side getting his coffee. Another guilty look as he turns back to me. He doesn't know what to say. He is not quite sure of what I mean. Is this an invite or am I going to thump him for looking. Perfection. Corruption. Like the ceaselessly shifting parallelogram at the centre of my incredible invention, emotions, sensations, transmuted, cycled, hid and showed themselves; yet, unlike my invention's regulated constancy, they fed back, intensified, expanded, abounded, till my ruined body could barely contain them. A new sound filled the room. A cry. A wail. It was unearthly. Inhuman. It was unstoppable. Unbearable. Impossible. It was me. The sound was me. Besides the indescribable. More

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