I place my thumb in her dimple and she squirms a little, unsure of how ridiculous to find me. I pluck my thumb free sideways and make a popping sound with my tongue like over inflating gum. She giggles softly with the sound of patinated velvet and I catch her eyes like emeralds set on fire, holding them as long as I dare. In the moment before the embarrassment of intimacy I push my tongue out through my lips, segueing into scrunch faced lunacy, diffusing the depth of my affections. We both laugh then, equal shares in different truths.
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.