I was wearing underpants, she was wearing a singlet. She pressed her buttocks against my crotch. I wrapped my arm across her breast. It didn’t occur to either of us to be aroused. ‘Remember when we were in love?’ She said. I nod into the scruff of her neck and make a sound. It’s enough. She laughs, light and sharp. ‘It’s like a fantasy now. Sickening, don’t you think?’ I can’t breathe. If I open my mouth I will choke on her Rapunzel fantasy. ‘We never would have lasted. I mean, we didn’t did we.’ I feel so tired.
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.