Where Abe saw a nest, Abi saw nets. She sawed at the tangles, her hope like blunt scissors. One day, finally, her heart flew.
She swirled the end of the tea around in the bowl and tipped it away. One long leaf remained, stuck camouflage green on the porcelain.
“Life will be what you make it” she said. This time I believed her.
Kraków. Snow. The Christmas market lights twinkled. A warming glass or two of electric tea. The lights spun and disappeared.
The 80kg bully prepared to kick sand again. This time, instead of kneeling, the thin boy showed him fifteen grams of lead.
I took the unexploded ordnance home with me from the pebbly beach. She was beautiful. She was my shell, my belle.
In the tent the writer of ‘The Domino Effect’ posed by stacks of his book. A step back and he was a victim of his own success.
I saw my opening and sped up. Unfortunately, so did she. Our bumpers kissed in the car park. She wound down her window and I fell.
“I still haven’t….” The object of his heart’s desire swam mistily into view. “Found you” he said, focussed on the barman’s hand.
The ‘g’ of ‘goodbye’ caught in her throat like a gasp. She could not say it. Through the train window he was checking his phone.
He was 95kg of lean meat on the bone but, when her love’s silver dart lodged by his scarred heart, soft eyes began again to smile.