‘   don’t   you   dare   light   that   cigarette,   those   bedsheets   are   silk.   ’   she’s   standing   in   a shaft   of   light,   a   faintly   hypocritical   trail   of   smoke   perched   between   her   fingers,   pale flecks   of   ash   drifting   towards   her   feet.   ‘   mine   isn’t   real,   it   doesn’t   count.   ’   @comadoser.