The Last Cowboy in the East
Copyright Kate Dempsey 2011
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It’s about three in the morning, mid February, that time of the year when it’s been raining for so long, you can’t remember what a warm afternoon ever felt like. I’m wearing my charcoal grey work suit with a skirt that skims the knee, a plain white blouse and a hand-painted scarf Shane gave me the year he left. The skin-colour tights and flat, police-issue pumps are as clammy as a guilty handshake. I'm on my fifth cup of espresso, the patch is stuck securely to my arm and the Nicorette gum snuggles in my pocket.