To be continued .....

Powerlessness has a distinctly sour flavour. It is not to my liking and nor is it to the palate of countless others, but it serves everybody well to taste it occasionally.

Friday evening I pulled the scotch bottle from the drawer for the first time in ... ages. Her familiar silhouette fills the doorway.

“Hi.”

“Hey. Hello, miss. Come on in. Long time no see.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Off sick. And I’m sorry it’s a week late, but happy birthday.”

She’s not the only one to have been ill. It was a miserable weekend. I don’t ever remember being sick on my birthday, which is kind of remarkable, considering that it comes on winter’s tail. I’ve certainly been sick on the hours or days after (especially in the last eight years) but never “so-sick-I-have-to-stay-in-bed” sick.

The two ice cubes in the bottom of the tumblers crackle as I decant two generous doubles. It’s the same bottle she gave me last year. My mind wanders. I hear the lilting voice of another – the mumblings of former lovers – I daren’t tell her so, but she can smile at me like that as much as she likes. We sit there for I don’t know how long, conversing.

“You’re on tonight: late shift with Holly and I.”

“OK. I’ll see you a little before 10.
* * *​
Water plinks steadily from the shower rose into the bucket below. Maybe if I leave it long enough, I will be able to drown my sorrows. A mirthless smile comes to my lips. My sorrows would probably learn to swim.

I fish a fresh white t-shirt from the drawer and pull it over my chest. I pull the belt from my size 36 jeans and thread it through the loops on my trousers. There are no tighter notches on this belt, and my trousers are still perilously loose.

The full moon has splashed night over the streets. Mixed with the remnants of recent rain, the street looks as though it is paved with diamonds. There’s a chill in the air. Huddling into my jacket, I lock the door behind me. I’ve decided to walk to work tonight. I need to be alone with my thoughts, even if it’s only a moment.

It’s just before seven in the morning where you are. You will either be awake or on the cusp of waking. My thoughts are disturbed by the wailing of sirens. It’s one of the pitfalls of living parallel to a highway, smack between a hospital and a fire station. But I digress.

The ambulance rises over the crest behind me. The engine revs and whines as it employs the hill as a slingshot. Unimpeded, it’s through the intersection at impossible speed and beyond my sight in moments. Hey, irony, FUCK YOU!

Comments

Blog entry information

Author
B_stu.kay823
Read time
2 min read
Views
114
Comments
1
Last update

More entries in General

More entries from B_stu.kay823

Share this entry