And My See-through Heart by Veronique Ovalde

And My See-through Heart

Veronique Ovalde

Come on a surreal journey through the life of a man who has been suddenly and inexplicably bereaved. Magical realism and red herrings abound as doped up Lancelot tries to discover what happened to his exotic wife Irina. His third person account is bizarre, jealous and violently emotional, skewing the reader off course with a surprising solution to the mystery. Keep peeling off the layers and the stinging truth will be revealed.

Lancelot stands there, perplexed, in suspense, he feels as if he is caught in a shower of ashes inside a little snow scene, the flakes swirling around him every time an unkind or malicious hand tips up the ball and its Pompeiian landscape. Lancelot scrutinizes the empty space above the chest of drawers on the water melon pink wall that Irina painted herself last winter. He does not remember taking the clock down. He groans. Is it starting again? He tells himself he'll have to be very careful in everything he does, as if being watched by a jittery sniper lying in wait opposite.
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Explicit sexual content