Himself.
Yeah we all remember who.
Haven’t really mentioned what became of eeeeeeeeertyuiop[
(sorry, just wanted to clean my keys with my new key-cleaning-wipes)
teacher, and the few pints and the food I laboured over for three hours.
So I invited him with about three weeks notice . We bade each other no “howareyanow”s or “well!” or “is it yourself is it?” when traipsing down the coridoors, nor a “thank you for tiring yourself out with all your hard work and cigarette smoking Sensei. ” Sweet nada.
Friday arrives, over he trots. He makes an “x” with his arms , says “not coming” and wanders off. You can be sure that you ain’t coming dahling. (I realise that it’s spelt with a “u” but i like to feel like i’m not swimming in the dank sodden sewers of obscenity ALL the time)
I’m not quite certain but i don’t think he even said sorry.
I should’ve given him lines. “Where are your manners?” ten thousand times for Monday.
But I didn’t.
I picked up my worn and bruised ego, and wondered what to do with it.
i put it in my pocket for safe-keeping.
the dinner went ahead.
it was the dullest evening I’ve ever spent.
three hours of school chat.
there’s eight hundred and fifty odd students in the school and i think a comment was passed on all of them.
And for the timeth time i don’t even want to know, I watched two hearts find each other, aross the dinner table.
They went home together.
And i did my dishes.
best to get them out of the way for the morning.