Tuesday, 13 March 2018

The Heart Shaped Stone.

I wake in Erbie’s platform bed, he is next to me, soft with sleep and cuddling bunny. I turn my back to him and curl up putting my head underneath the pillow. I can hear TheGr downstairs getting ready for work - it's 6am. I lie motionless, silently listening, will he acknowledge my existence when he leaves or just lean across me to kiss Erbie goodbye.

I hear him come into the room, feel the bed rock as steps up, he seems cheerful this morning, kissing Erbie and me.

“There are mouse droppings in the bedroom again, can you hoover up today - would you mind?” he asks in his best, polite, morning voice.

“No, I don‘t mind, of course, I will, no problem.” the words tumble out in random order.

He leaves. The house is quiet. a slither of sunshine blasts through under the black-out blind, it’s just before 7am. I groggily manoeuvre myself down the ladder, my is mouth dry, wisps of last night’s argument flickering through my head. The name calling, the tears, insinuations and accusations all seem so futile in the bright morning light.

I make myself a two egg omelette and a pot of coffee and contemplate the condensation on the window. I feel the knot in my chest, like I’ve swallowed a stone, a heart shaped stone, I smile wryly to myself. It’s back.

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‘They tuck you up your mum and dad...’
Anon - after Larkin

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It’s the hope I can’t deal with”

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Anais Nin

‘Come on Dover move your bloomin’ arse’.
Eliza Doolittle