tazmansan
The setup was elaborate. Chocolate cakes sprawled across red rose petals. Golden iced cupcakes with orchids atop cotton candy pink tiered stands. White sugared almonds in crystal bowls.
The bus roared past. Red double decker. Exactly as in the movies, the post cards. Anytime when you thought of London, these buses where in the picture. As iconic as Big ben or Buckingham Palace. Yes the bus signalled, that I had made it. I was here. Where I'd always dreamed. When I got a job, with my first pay check, it would definitely be atop of one of those buses, seeing that new world that had been promised to me.
She watched the scooter whizz past, almost clipping her toes.
"Watch it. Fucking asshole." she said flipping the driver off lazily. He probably didn't even notice but it made her feel slightly better regardless.
"You're holding them wrong. Here, let me show you."
"What do you mean? This is how my mother taught me to hold chopsticks."
"Just try."
She reached over and positioned the chopsticks between my fingers. I held the sticks in the new configuration but it just felt awkward.
"Nah I prefer my way thanks."
"Ok, but you're wrong." she said,
The syrup dripped slowly. Warm and sticky. She smiled as she poured it. It was agony to watch. Then slowly, she took a bite. Damn IBS fucks you up. I remember a time when watching someone eating pancakes didn't feel like watching a porno.
Sitting here, with you I can't help but feel like theres nothing more important than this moment. I need you to know about this elm tree. it was planted when you were born and your mother passed. It was planted with her ashes, born from her like you. You are sisters.
It was his turn. he could feel the sweat rolling down his back. Time froze for a moment. He knew it was time to go. No one had ever returned. They all awaited their turn to go. Now it was his.
"Outsider" he spat the words on the ground.
It stung. I knew everyone thought that but to hear him believe it hurt most. I didn't care if anyone understood me except him. His judgement intensified everything in the room.
his hands were cold. he cupped them too his face and blew the warm air between to warm his fingers. He was an outsider. It was obvious from his torn trousers to his scuffed boots. The hair matted.
it felt endless. This was the last one for today. He knocked tentatively on apartment 345. no answer. He knocked again, with more gusto. Some movement occured behind the door.
writing since 2016 · 10 entries · 9 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Tam showed up.
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9days written
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the words Tam reaches for
warmknockedfingersoutsidermomentplantedbornmotherslowlywatchwatchingwrongchopstickspastbusred