Same boy. Third time. He makes better coffee than she does, which is the only reason Sophie hasn’t changed the locks. I give it a fortnight.
Tag: dating
Sunday Kitchen Tribunal
Sophie, Mia, leftover pizza, three phones face-up. They made me go through every name from Saturday in order. I did. Then I asked who was taking me out next weekend. Silence.
The Uber Knew My Name
Driver clocked me from last Thursday’s drop-off in Dalston and asked if I was going back to the same block. I wasn’t. Still tipped him. He’ll tell someone.
I Let Him Think It Meant More
For twenty minutes. Then I asked for an Uber and a cigarette. He looked confused. I looked done. Next.
That Girl From Recomply
Saw her again at a birthday in Shoreditch. Last time she was crying in a bathroom about him. This time she’s on his shoulders. I have the old voice notes. Tempting.
She Cried In The Smoking Area
Not me. The girl whose boyfriend was inside with his hand on my waist. I gave her a cigarette. I’m not a monster.
I Told The Truth At Brunch
They asked how my Saturday was. I said I went home with a man whose name I still don’t have. Eggs went cold.
We Had Sex During The Fire Alarm
Everyone filed out. We didn’t. The sprinklers never came on. Anti-climax in every sense except the one that mattered.
The Group Chat Has Receipts
Screenshots. Voice notes. A blurry photo from the smoking area. I thought I was being discreet. I was being content. There’s a difference and I keep forgetting it.
Sophie Found Last Night’s Tie
It was on the toaster. She held it up like evidence. I said it was fashion. She said it was a cry for help. Both true.