Angelica
‘Does it help?’
The Stink continued to stare at her, those infuriating beady grey eyes boring into her skull like a couple of blunt cranial drills, but Angelica took her gaze elsewhere, outside the window into the sombre mists that encircled the neighbouring skyrises. She used to check the clock constantly in these sessions, but now time seemed to pass a little faster if she simply stepped into that comatose fog where no one else could reach her, and it was all the thicker and soupier now that her mother had finally died.