She's tapped every op-shop and second hand store in a thirty kilometer radius. She's trawled the internet and put out feelers on eBay, but to no avail... It can't be found.I thought I would've gone crazy without it, but I'm okay. Vanessa's starting to fade from memory. Things stop reminding me of her, and I no longer run my fingers over the globe and drool about her. I don't even dream of her, much. She emailed me the other week and told me how wonderful it was over in the States. Surprisingly, I. We grew found of each other. Had interesting conversations. Shared lots of interests. After a while, we only split on date nights: Me with some young girl. She with guys every guy that said yes. I fucked a lot of those girls. And sometimes even their mothers. And not as often as I liked their grandmothers. Mum came back home alone. Always. Drunk and frustrated. I often had to nurse her hangover the next day. Or carry her drunk body into her bed. Once she moaned something barely hear able: “If. More

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