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She wakes and the smell of lime lingers through the room, fogged with dust and the odor of dogs. As she pulls her head from the pillow I hear the ice cubes jar the glass. It is some what a calming sound, like wind-chimes. With each slow sip she reminds me of my parents. Fogged by gin, yet the smell of the lime clouds my memory of that time. Her eyes twinkle as she smiles and slurs as she professes her love. I revert to a safe place within myself as she continues to jabber nothing of importance, as the lime controls my memories... distant yet raw. She needs to go...
