Like molten silver, skeins of fresh semen ooze from her sex.

Down in the street, their softened pricks yet slippery, the boys warble and chirp, hoot and howl.

The blanket falls. Red owls swallow the sun.

The temperature dives to nothing.

A new sun shines upon glittering shards of shattered penises which litter the streets like stamped-out puddles of soon-to-be-melted ice.

Silvia goes inside.