Friday, 16 December 2011

The Rain

 Note: I suggest reading Naturally first, then Hunted then this.

I fling open the fridge and there’s nothing except scotch.
I pour myself a glass and swirl the liquid, drinking deeply, it burns as it hits my empty stomach.
The cupboards are filled with cat food, the cat is fat and I am rake thin. My ribs have started to become more defined through my skin. My eyes have that sunken look. My mother always used to tell me to remember to eat. At her wake last year I ate nothing from the buffet, the guilt was unbearable. She never understood why I never left the house, why I never had any friends. I never told her how much they frightened me. I’m sure she’s looking down at me now, crying at me. She’d have wanted me to leave here, to meet people and to fall in love. The feeling when they look at me is unbearable but I try for her. Every now and then I’ll go to a bar and I’ll talk to people but only the younger ones ever stay. They stay because they don’t notice how I never look them in the eyes, never do anything but nod and agree with them.
I drink a few more glasses and the cat plants herself in front of me, begging for attention. She is a whore for attention. She purrs and the silence is mellowed, I feel less alone.

I walk to the grocery store. My slept in clothes and 3 day stubble is drawing looks from girls. They giggle as I pass, give me little glances and then turn to talk to their friends. The grocery store is nearly empty, there’s one lone women at the counter. She coughs and scans cereal for an old woman whose nails have been bitten bloody. My eyes hone in on the nicotine stains on the check out girls hands, she’s not unattractive but she’s nothing special. She’s seen me before and has never taken much notice. I wander around the store, throwing food into my basket. I buy some cheap scotch and a copy of The Readers Digest. The girl scans them, absentmindedly. She has no interest in me and her accent is foreign as I hand over my money.

I leave and the girls are still there, across the street. A torrential rain of giggles comes from their perfectly glossed lips as I walk by.

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