2: “Boy, Boy, Boy”

by gurdeepmattu

All I’m listening to is Underworld. The best and most witty conversation I get is from a girl on Twitter who I’ve never met. I end up doing pilates at Balaam Leisure Centre and on the 330 back home a boy demonstrates one of the loudest handclaps I’ve ever heard. I glare, but I can’t help it: I’m impressed.  Drinking red wine I’ve helped choose in the Bloomsbury conservatory I realise the Continuum postcard clip doubling as a tie pin on my red leatherette tie is of the past. I think I can remember your smell, that gentle suburban way you had sometimes. I look up and see Centrepoint, and I think I can make out the lights on the stairwell. TCR swallows me.

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