Metallic gold temporary tattoo design sheet

I found the key in the bottom of my coat pocket this morning, the little gold one with the heart-shaped bow, and I knew at once it had come off the sheet we bought from the market stall on Coronation Street. You laughed at me for paying three shillings for a page of foil transfers, but look what they have done. The chain that runs down the wall of my room has grown brighter since the damp started, and the arrows we stuck above the bed still point at the door as if they were waiting for you to walk through it.

The moon came off first. Mrs Okafor next door swears the leopard heart is the only one that survived the washing, and I have started to believe her. The silver leaves went to the lamp shade, and the little stars I pressed onto the back of my hand the night of the dance have faded to nothing except the one that caught the light from the gramophone. I keep telling myself the fading is the point, that nothing made of foil was ever meant to last a Saturday in Salford.

The Palais closes at eleven now, so I walk home alone past the diamonds painted on the shutters of the chandler's, and I count the triangles the way you taught me, three to a diamond, four diamonds to a wall. There are eleven of them tonight. I have kept the key. If you come back before the stars are gone, I will be on the bench by the canal, and I will be wearing all of it.

Always yours, Edie