You’re so fucking pretty, I tell her, and she says you can’t say that, looking at me with those doe eyes that say I’ve crossed a line, but her cheeks are blushed and tell me it’s a crossing gladly borne. Too fucking pretty, maybe, but I don’t tell her that. I just look, waiting for something to happen. She lays a hand over mine and our eyes turn down to watch them twine. I feel so empty inside. Trying to escape her voice is quivered, caught and small. Do we kiss now? Maybe, I tell her, maybe another time.
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.