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11/22/2009 3:37:16 AM
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'I gave her my old phone, she was stone delighted, ' the Navan man said: while his Cork culchie brethren blew hot and cold into the headpiece all bluetooth and shiny smile schmoozing on the street. 'He said he didn't but what do you think? ' a brunette pushes past me angrily 'That little huir, I hope she's happy now-' she moves too far away I am tempted to follow, I want to know what did he do? and if it's likely, his guilt, and who is the rival woman? 'I can't, ' the teenager wails, chewing the fingernails of one hand a bovine testament to the need for population control. 'Wha'? ' she stares blankly into middle space her mothers voice shrill and tinny spelling out the name of a washing powder brand. '...if you move that account around, it should be all right, ' He moves in and out of earshot, a worried shadow with quick panicked steps. So many voices, overheard I wonder, how few heard over the din? Geraldine Moorkens Byrne
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