By Steven Holding

Quicker than blinking, he could slip his skin. At work he was David, out and about Dave.
In the bedroom, Davey.
Each morning, when we awoke, he was a brand-new person.
That I knew wasn’t news to him; he just presumed that I was used to being used.
Being at the beginning once again.

“Twenty-six letters rearranged then placed upon a page never ceases to amaze.” – the writer

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