The boiler began to breathe it’s incessant but fleeting hum…

And she slept there, silently
Not by a body with a beating heart, no
She was caught up in the tangles of white dotted duvet and matted brown bed sheet
And I used the soft rising and falling of her chest as background music to my reading.

What a joy I felt to be free from the corporate jungle, with my 3 most favourable treasures lying beside me:
Mister Bourbon
Miss Jones
And novel of the year, an ominous ‘Neverwhere’

This is the manner in which one such as I would mean to start one’s day... 
Minus Mister Bourbon of course.
No
He I would enjoy the company of only once in a little while.

All else fades outside of this here room and all we have, miss Jones and I, is each other’s body for warmth, a drink for the purposes of merry drinking, which was presented to me, ironically with a stab story interlinked and the drink of those who roam the streets of the world after midnight, a pretty, clear glass bottle branded Kentucky Straight Bulleit Bourbon.