Loav woke with a start, and to night sweats. He did not need to remember his sleep visions to know to whom he owed the cause. Que sera, sera. For the life of him he could not say why he’d agreed to this… Meeting. He made no effort to acknowledge the sleeping woman laying to his right and made for the shower. What are you doing, man?, he thought to himself as the water pricked his skull, what the fuck are you doing going there. After all these years, what are you doing? Maybe you won’t even run into her, but would you really be going if she hadn’t said. We’re quite pitiful aren’t we? A lonely smile creeping across his face. Not until he was drunk from the steam did he step out to face the crisp, autumn air. He chose his pair of high-tops converses, faded grey chino pants, a dark grey high collared cardigan, and threw on a heavy bronze neck chain he would need to throw over his head twice to cut the length for good measure, and he headed for the kitchen.
“Good morning”, the girl sang as he entered the kitchen. “where do you keep your coffee, it’s the thing I can’t find?”
“Oh, morning” I forgot someone else was here “Cabinet on top. The coffee plunger is under the sink.” he sat at the table and drew a cigarette looking absent mindedly out the window.
“Smells great, many thanks” she expects me to brew my own coffee? I can’t say if that’s lazy or smart. I’ll just assume she drinks instant. Whatever this girls name was, she was prancing around the kitchen in his shirt and nothing else he noticed as she stretched trying to reach the peanut butter at the back of the cabinet. 1.5 something metres tall, skin the colour of banana milkshake, hair that could have only come from polyethylene packaging, hips nearly twice as wide as his own, a waist only wide enough so he could wrap his arm around and play with her navel and a pretty face.
“Come clean this up” the girl looked over her shoulder, smiled and walked over to kneel between his knees.
****
There is no joy for me today. The festival on the opposite end of the city, in the park by the lake. The air smelt of fresh water and pond scum, acrylic and street food, perfumes and, sniff sniff, weed. He was walking by through the marquees, inattentively. The smoking did nothing to distract him from his mood. He noticed someone pointing a camera his way. It was Kit – that was the name he had given her in the past. She was in a white maxi dress, some flimsy thing he assumed was a badly worn button up jersey and a bowler hat. A woman he had little trouble recognising. Well, there goes hoping we’d completely miss each other.
“I didn’t actually think you would show” she gave him a quick hug. There’s that smile again, damn it!
“Well ‘a man is nothing without his word’ I’ve heard being said. Somewhere. I think”, he replied carefully.
“Could we grab something to eat and sit. There’s a nice street cuisine spot I like”, she looking right at him. Thank god for shades.
“I haven’t had anything since breakfast. I could eat”, he lied. The naked girl had finished off, zipped him up and he had asked her to get dressed so he might drop her off at her place. He had hardly touched the food. “Still terrible at conversation, I see” she commented after failing to engage him in conversation, “and since when do you smoke?”
“Not without trying, I guess I never stopped being an awkward nerd” he chuffed, “order for me, I trust you. I’ll go book us a bench”. He left her to order and found a seat, and freed his affects from his pockets. She placed the food in front of him and eyed the cigarette between his fingers.
“stress habit”, he said quickly
“are you stressed now”
“this and every other waking minute” why is she giving me that sad, disappointed look of hers? And why in the name of Christ did I take off my sunglasses? “Can I ask something?” he asked, stabbing his food mindlessly and avoiding eye contact…
Darkest shades of... 