prosetry

Benches

​”Why are you crying, poppet?”

Because I am so devastated that there is no document that exists that can tell me every single bench I’ve ever sat on throughout my life, where that bench was and with whom I was sitting. I just need to know. I just want to fucking know.

“That’s why you’re so angry and upset? Because you don’t have a list of every bench you’ve ever sat on?”

Yeah.

“Look, I know you’re mad, poppet, all the best ones are. But you can’t be insane. Not here, not now. Not ever.”

But–

“Ahh ah ah ah. Come on now. Settle, petal.”

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prosetry

The Fascinator

Well he asked me what I was passionate about and I said writing, I’m a writer, and he asked me what I like to write about and I said oh, you know, everything, people mainly, the strangers I meet, the stories they tell, the tangled webs we weave, and he said tell me, where do you meet these strange people with all their fascinating stories? and I said honestly? in pubs, usually, and I laughed and then he laughed and he had such a fucking great laugh, and then he said well I’m a stranger that you’ve met in a pub, aren’t I? and I said yes but you haven’t done anything fascinating yet and he said oh don’t worry about that, beautiful, I’ll give you something to write about, and we laughed and smoked and finished our drinks too quickly and then I got in his car

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