Billy Wood-Smith

“Chewing on his lip, he tried to make sense of this. There was something terribly wrong with the picture of her playing this CD. The music was hard for him to take, alright. But if there was one person in this world, that he would have sworn, would have an equally hard, if not harder time listening to that stuff, it was her.So, why on earth was she doing it? Why would she put that CD on? Tonight?”

“Turn it off,” she said, her voice cracking.“It’s still good music,” Joe told her with an almost apologetic shrug.“It’s crap,” she breathed, still totally taken aback by the music playing again.He shook his head. “No, it’s not crap!” he said patiently and started peeling out of his sweater, trying hard not to get his braced hand caught in the sleeve. He emerged, his hair a bit messy, and tossed the sweater back towards the sofa.”