It’s 10 AM. The Rolling Stones begin to play. After forty-five seconds, a hand sends the prescription tablets flying from the nightstand to the floor, before finally finding the snooze button on the alarm clock, cutting short its rendition of “Paint it, Black”.
Alison stretches out on the bed, naked under the sheets. The little brunette looks sideways at her Carole, a blonde with skin as white as a Chinese doll. Her lover sleeps peacefully, indifferent to the morning’s rock’n’roll. Alison’s nose twitches. The room smells like sex. The momentary discomfort makes her sigh, and the girl realizes that she is no longer in love with her partner.
The young woman gets out of bed and stumbles toward the bathroom. On the way, she stops for a moment in front of the bedroom mirror, enjoying the sight of her naked body. The light tan that perfectly complements her olive-black hair and eyes brings a smile to her face.
The smile fades, and Alison jumps back as if burned on a hot stove. Those eyes were not hers. But… They were. Now, right now – they are, the reflection is right. Before, they were not… They did not look like her eyes.
An electric chill shakes her body, and she runs into the bathroom.
“I have to get rid of her scent,” she murmurs while turning the shower faucet.