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Romance – Part two


Entry by Uhurina Swann (19/07/06)

My head swam and my stomach lurched as I made it to my feet. Sun blared through the sheers lighting the whole room and making my head feel like a split melon drying in it. I walked past the full-length mirror on the way to the loo my hair looked like someone had rolled it in fat greasy bangers. What did I do last night? I held my head to keep it from falling off my shoulders, as I watched puss walking down the hall shaking her back leg as she mewed at me. “Sorry puss” I muttered as I continued to the loo. I splashed cold water on my face making the mascara run even more.  “Lady I wish you would just bugger off.”  It was then I noticed the torn end of a photo stuck to the Lady’s paw. It had Karl’s head sticking out between her claws. I sat down hard on the chamber pot and pulled Lady into my lap. I pulled the photo off as flashes of last nights picture tearing tantrum came into my mind. I dropped Lady. Hangover forgotten I ran straight for the litter box. There they were: years of photos, torn, wet with cat piss, and half buried. Tears rolled down my cheeks. How could I have done this? They were all I had left. Lady mewed and rubbed against me, wanting breakfast, as I looked unseeing into the mess.

I started to remove the photos. One of us in Paris was not torn or pissed on; it was just dusty. The rest were unsalvageable. I wiped the dust from his face on my black skirt and placed it on my dresser. Opening draws I pulled the first thing I saw out, a thick aron sweater and gray wool slacks. I headed straight for the shower. I was feeling the hang over again. Hot water cleared my head and washed the birthday residue down the drain. I dressed and pulled my hair in to a wet knot on top of my head. I was still feeling foggy.

I ripped open the bag of cat food left it on the floor. I grabbed my bag, ran out the door stopping at the chemist on my way. I swallowed the pills with spit. They were sticking my throat and I wished I had bought a water too. The coach was late, now I could not possibly get there before nine. I sat on the coach and people stared at me. “What the bloody hell you looking at?”  The old woman was in just as good a mood as I. She said, “Well, deary your sweater is open and…” I never heard the rest of what she said. I start buttoning it up I forgot to put on a blouse and realizing this I noted my knickers as well. Everyone could see me blushing as I could feel the crimson run up to my face. Why didn’t anyone say anything? Not the chemist – no wonder his eyes were popping – nor the people at the coach stop who acted as if they had never seen boobs before in their lives. How is it that no one hit on me then, or the bobby did not arrest me for a common whore? I pulled a mirror out of my bag. I regretted not taking the time to put on my makeup as well. My eyes were red rimed and I looked shagged. I powered my face pinched my cheeks for color and added lipstick, eye paint, and mascara. I could feel them still looking at me. What else could be out of place?

I got off the coach and walked the last three blocks to the office. The lift took forever. I wanted to get into the toilet before I saw anyone I knew. I checked my face; not great but better. My sweater was buttoned straight, pants zipped. I check the back for a split. It was then I looked down my shoes were different not navy and black different. Really different. “I must be daft.” I said to myself. My right one was teal the shade of my sweater but the left was hot pink with an open toe. If I did not have so much work to do I would just leave. I did not cry; I had just fixed my face.  They were the same height I could not tell when walking. No wonder the bobbies left me alone. No self-respecting prostitute was about at this hour nor did they wear mismatched shoes. Thank God I have shoes in my desk.

Good the receptionist is on the phone. I made it to my cubical without seeing anyone else, kicked off my shoes and before I could get the others out of my drawer Julie came around the edge and said, “Late this morning are we?” I hate her.  She looks like she slept all night, hair perfect, and her shoes matched. I scowled at her and she was undaunted. “Better hurry the boss is looking for you.”

I put the shoes on and walked to his office, could the meeting have been moved up. I hope not. Through the window, I could see him talking to another man whose back was to me. He looked familiar. Oh bloody hell! It can’t be. I turned around as if someone else were speaking with me from another cubical, to give me time to think and pick my mouth up off the floor. Smile, I reminded myself as I turned around. More bees with honey. I knocked on the door, smile in place.

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