She was up late last night marking papers and forgot to shop. There was nothing in the fridge except her flatmate's frozen pizza. Potato and Garlic -- "You'll never fear vampires again". The pizza was still cold and doughy in the middle when she ate it at 12.30 am. She spent the night writhing with indigestion, burping bubbles of garlic and basil.
Tossing on the bed, all the terrors of her life tossed with her. She was 26 and had no boyfriend, not a trace of one. Amid the bicacarbonate and the fear, something happened.
Thomas West. In her mind, in garlic gas, he transmogrified from a dumpy carrot-top, to a big, masculine man. She saw his green, steady eyes. Why was she turning him down all the time? How had he seemed so small? Mingled with the burning, linoleum pizza in her belly, he seemed looming, inevitable.
She wonders how Thomas will look in the flesh, in winter, at a primary school. Hands occupied, exhausted as if from multiple orgasms, she cannot cover a huge and garlic yawn.