'Text to Venus' by Vivienne Bayol
6pm. Bad day. Wanted him here for a hug. Text. Fancy a fuck? Oh, he’s so sweet, he sensed I needed him. Was that telepathy? Yes that would be lovely. Bring mushrooms. He says he’ll be here at 10ish. Too late for omelettes but in time for a fuck. Forget the mushrooms I said. In fact, forget the whole thing. Why he says. Because you’re from Mars. I said.