Monday 25 December 2017

Xmas Dave



As the Queen was speaking to her subjects on the television, Dave was staring at the numbers on his phone, thumb hovering over the call button.

Apart from the moments when he’d been asleep, eating, dealing with the consequences of eating, and the time he’d been forced to interact with Mrs Smyth two apartments over, he’d been in this position, trying to will himself to press the button.

It had begun as her mess up, her drunken fling, but even he could admit that he’d overreacted, and his leaving was required.

But it was the season to give.

Forgiveness, maybe?

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