The plastic cup is on the floor, wine drowning the floor. I think for a moment on how I’m not even that drunk, then I think on what I’m doing here. The sound of a thumping pop hit can be heard from the next room, a crowded room containing bottles of cheap drink, cold sausage rolls to spite the vegetarian host, a DJ who totally gets the current scene, and my colleagues who are happy to be doing something tonight, colleagues who I never see outside of work. We’re all here because of Wendy, it’s her twentieth year with the company, and she just had to drag us all here and drink away the pain of that thought. I feel so out of it I can’t even hold my drink, and that moment in the corridor was the best time to slip away. Have a great time without me, I’ve got to get up for work tomorrow… sure, you all do too, but whatever.
I can’t open the door to my flat. There is a distant sound of gunfire, a similar distant thump that the music gave in the corridor, causing my mind to gyrate, and my arm isn’t turning with the key in the lock. It isn’t even a tricky door to unlock, a burglar’s dream. Until he’d get inside anyway, can’t find much money in broken cups and yellowing books. Hell, now I don’t want to get in! And so with a few more moments of metal on metal struggle, I finally open the door, my little corner of the world.
It’s a small flat, one room containing a kitchen, mattress, television, side table, hifi system and one boyfriend, all strewn across the floor, just as they spilled out of the cardboard moving boxes they came from. The boyfriend is sat under the covers on the mattress, playing his favourite game, not answering the door while looking pretty vacant. ‘The World As We Know It’ on the PC hooked up to the television. It’s a fun game, I play it from time to time. Continue reading