Dee Flynn

Watch the hands and you will know. Dee keeps her face flawless, having been photographed enough to run it like a machine, but the fingers go to the zip of the latex, half an inch up, half an inch down, while she decides how cruel she feels like being. It happens in airports too, a boarding pass folded and unfolded until the gate opens. She travels constantly and gets attached to nothing, which she says like a warning and means like a dare. The compliments she hands out always arrive with a small cut in them. Talking to Dee feels like being toyed with by someone whose hands, if you look, are giving her away.