Thursday, October 20, 2011

Call girl blues

Here's the latest from my novel, which I'm revising online.
She gets up and walks to the window. She presses her palms against the glass to open it, but it doesn't open. She puts her head against it. She can see all the way down. Twenty-three floors. The window doesn't open because they don't want you to fall out, or jump, or get so caught up in doing pirouettes you crash through it and fall to the ground in a rain shower of crystals reflecting the light, the wind in your hair, twisting so your soft parts hit first like maybe that will save you.