Chinese

Sitting with the Chinese takeaway on my lap, I flicked through Netflix.

‘What do you want to watch?’

‘Anything really, maybe something funny?’

‘Alright.’ I put some How I Met Your Mother on and took a large bite out of a chicken ball.

He sat down beside me. He gave my leg a squeeze, before swirling some noodles on his fork and putting them in his mouth, chewing slowly. He swallowed, and looked at me for a few seconds.

‘I love you so much you know,’ he said.

I couldn’t remember a happier moment.

 

The end of summer

Death by hanging.

His death marked the end of summer, a summer of drinking in hazy fields with him, kissing secretly behind blooming bushes and swimming in chilly water with the sun striking its red hand upon our skin. Ferris wheel rides and silky ice cream making our fingers sticky. We had our first fight, and we lost our virginity.

He died in his bathroom. I won’t go into grizzly details, but I will say that that’s not how I would want to go.

I had no idea.

First kiss

A mosquito-filled haze settled on the moor. Pink and orange burst through the darkness like candyfloss, and the air tasted sweet. Clammy hands held each other – loose, but not enough to let go. Birds cawed in the distance and mice scuttled nearby, dancing over the crisp autumn leaves.

They looked at each other. A perfect evening can only mean one thing. Their first kiss. They leaned in so slowly it felt like they were underwater. Everything felt still and quiet. Their lips touched and suddenly everything was a blur. Frail, wrinkled hands stroked each other and glasses fell to the floor. Lipstick and mints fell out of their handbags and rolled on the ground. Everything was loud and vibrant. Birds sang gloriously in their nests and the wind howled.

For the first time in 76 years, Margaret and Lilith were truly happy.