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The Solo Drinker

Table for one, please.

Category

Prose

Rewind.

If you had the chance to do so – would you change the past?

 

What was your childhood like?

The relationship you have with your Mom is far from amicable, and cordial at best.

Continue reading “Rewind.”

Half of My Heart.

Hey. 

Are you keeping well?

~~~

Have you settled in nicely at your new place, had your friends warm the seats of your teak furniture – that dining set, and the sofa with armrests wide enough to hold a beer – the ones we bought together?

Continue reading “Half of My Heart.”

Irony.

He asks if he can come over.

To visit your cat,” he justifies
“ok,” she says, “but only after 9pm – tennis class before.”
“I’ll pick you up after class,” he offers
“No, it’s fine,”
I want the time alone. 

How come you never offered to drive me around, years ago?

Continue reading “Irony.”

(In)consequential.

People say my knack for remembering details is a gift.

In certain situations, yes.

And admittedly, it can be rather entertaining:-

Continue reading “(In)consequential.”

Before & After.

The train station was a mere
10-minute walk from my office
But you offered to pick me up
And drop me off

I try to make your life easier.
Protect you from the elements. 

Continue reading “Before & After.”

Stagnant.

Do you ever feel like nearly everyone else’s life is progressing to the next level, while yours is stagnating?

Well, perhaps stagnating is pushing it a little; there are still little (some may say major) developments in your life – like the new job you took up, finally getting a place of your own, taking tennis lessons, dabbling in watercolour painting, keeping busy with rehearsals for upcoming performances, and that friendly cat you’re adopting. Pretty exciting stuff, admittedly – and arguably anything but stagnating.

Continue reading “Stagnant.”

Glow.

With furrowed brows, she stares at the wall of text on her laptop screen – its brightness inevitably creates a gentle glow against her cheeks.

A low, resigned sigh leaves her mouth as she rests her chin against the back of her hand.

Her mobile phone buzzes.

Continue reading “Glow.”

Relapse.

Mending a broken heart is an arduous task.

Unlike a physical wound, readily visible to all and sundry, where its recovery is tangible – and therefore trackable –

One can never be completely certain of the extent one’s heart has healed.

Some days are better than others – you get distracted by immediately pressing obligations at work; you hear your own laughter whilst immersed in the company of friends – it’s genuine, authentic; your interest is piqued slightly when an attractive chap says hi, and you even flirt a little

Continue reading “Relapse.”

Blocked.

You promised that you wouldn’t burn this bridge.

And I believed it.

For, despite the fact that you’d tweaked your social media settings such that I could hardly see anything on your profile, we were still friends on record. And that crucial Reaction to the video of my original song – yes, that one about you – how you chose to respond with the sobbing emoji instead of all the other possible Reactions. I’d considered that an acknowledgement of our predicament, and that if you could tell me how you felt in words, it would probably be something like this:-

I’ve heard it; it’s beautiful. I’m upset too. I am so sorry.” Continue reading “Blocked.”

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