Bez watches me from the pillow next to mine, all freckles and burgundy hair and lips which taste like a cool autumn night. There is a stray eyelash on her cheek, and I wet my finger with the tip of my tongue before touching it against her skin. The eyelash comes away with my finger. […]

Sheila looks over the menu. “I think I’ll have the lasagne,” she says. “Lasagne!” Colin exclaims. “You know who else liked lasagne? Hitler, that’s who!” “Hitler?” Sheila says. “Yes, Hitler. Actually, it’s the entire reason he joined forces with the Italians during the war, in order to ensure a constant and steady supply of lasagne. […]