I did shout. Sort of. She still got an eyeful, went scarlet, then made tea like nothing happened. Mia is never letting either of us forget this one.
Tag: soho
The Group Chat Has Screenshots
Of him. Of the texts. Of my “I’m coming home I swear” lie from 2am. Democracy is dead in this flat and I’m the president.
Sophie Heard The Headboard Again
She didn’t even knock this time. Just turned the radio up and sent a group-chat screenshot that said “congratulations I guess”. Fair.
Her Best Friend Slid In
After I posted the blurry photo. “That’s my mate’s boyfriend.” I typed then deleted then posted the next one anyway.
The Cloakroom Queue Was Long
So we didn’t wait. Coat still on. His hand over my mouth because the attendant was two feet away pretending not to exist.
I Wrote This Before Sleeping
Phone on 4%. Makeup still on. Someone in my bed whose name is in my notes as “Tuesday?” That’s the job. That’s the life.
Mia Brought Him Home Again
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.
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.