I sicked up a bit on the way you say 'beautiful'. We agreed to swap stories in the garden. Midnight moon kind of Miles Davis choking on cheap vanilla ice cream. My story was about a man who wakes up one morning to find that his hands have turned into a bickering old couple. They argue about cigarettes and wine, a whore from 1949. Yours was about a man who sicked up a bit on the way his girlfriend said 'beautiful', and so she suffocated him in his sleep using a dressing gown once owned by Elvis Presley.