The cave smelled of fish and seaweed. The back wall was dry. The tide did not reach that far. The blanket and knife lay on a flat stone.
An ex-lover, later, left me this
I experiment on you when you are sleeping. Gently I squeeze your earlobe. Your breath does not speed or falter. Rise. Fall.
Finger-soft I stroke the almost hair on the nape of your neck. Your shoulders twitch and settle. Relax now.
My hand rests on the curve of your stomach. Slowly I reach through your skin and up, behind your ribs. My fingers find your soul and, softly again, I fold over a silver corner. The edges blacken and stick. You will never know why you feel tarnished on days the sun shines.
The house smelled of animals
The house smelled of animals. Perhaps birds, all the windows were closed. Or snakes. The heating was on. Definitely dogs. And at least one cat. But no, there were no animals there. None that moved at least. But.
T thought he would back out quietly, out of the living room, along the hall, backwards through the kitchen and back out through the window. Quietly, very quietly, feeling each backward step as he took it. A good idea but much too late.
He put his foot down in the wrong place.
Airport 1pm: you get all sorts
The soapstar with uneven teeth checks receipts from the chemist’s. A man with moustache and a winter-weight jacket contemplates scaffolding with experience-bright eyes. John watches takeoffs, wills flight to be possible; until his mother shouts and drags him away.
Airport 7am: Gents’ toilets
Female cleaners walk past the urinals, talking brightly.
Like antelopes’ ears at the snuff of a lion, men’s ears prick up.
A downward look of dismay at the misdirected spray.
Airport 6am
Airport 6am.
Tired parents, children lose patience.
Local disbelief at prices of tea. Tourists watch sadly.
Fruit juice on white trousers.
Trying to explain biros
Madeleine puffed out her cheeks. She wanted to write something clear, something interesting, something set in the past. And that was a problem.
She knew what biros were, she had used one herself at school. But now, every time she tried to write the word, her writer changed it to ‘bird’. At first it was funny – ‘Calvin tapped the bird gently on his teeth as he thought’ – and then it was not. She tried writing the letters one by one, with spaces in between, and then taking the spaces away, but as she did, the biro became a bird. Life was too short; she wrote ‘writer’ instead and forgot about Calvin’s white, white teeth. Pen would have done, she thought later, but then it was too late.
And then there was the thing with the orange. The orange tan. The big ape thing. She wrote orange tan in the search box but there was no result. But she was sure she remembered them. Big brown apey things with very long arms. But maybe not.
Later in the year the rain stopped and the sun steamed the puddles. Madeleine sat outside the drinkhouse and tried to explain biros to Calvin. But he did not remember or understand. He had always used a writer, hadn’t he? Madeleine drank her drink and gave up. Her feelings for Calvin wrinkled a little. She decided not to talk about orange tans.
Later again she thought about her feelings and wrote in her journal. How did she feel? Well, she lived him. What? No, I mean I live him. Oh, this is ridiculous. I l-o-v-e LIVE him. No. She wrote l-o-v- in the search box. NO RESULT. DO YOU MEAN LIVE? No. Please no. Not this. Please leave us something. NO RESULT. DO YOU MEAN NOTHING?
Dancing in the sun at Glastonbury
Dancing in the sun at Glastonbury, his then girlfriend sitting on his shoulders. White t-shirt, straw hat, arms dark against the sky and flags, a camera magnet. Whooping with delight when she saw herself on the big screen, squeezing her legs tight. That night in the tent his neck was sore, red raw. It was only when they were screaming towards divorce she told him about the momentary loss of control. It was not sunburn.
Bear with me
-Hello, are you still there?
-Yeees. Bear with me.
…
-What are we waiting for?
-Bear with me. Bear. With. Me.
-Really, I can’t wait.
[Growl]
Feet
My dogs are barking! Bill pulled off his slip-on and rubbed his foot. His sock had a hole. The bus drove past. There’d be another.
simonsalento 