Blurred vision


I have an inappropriate crush on you, she wrote. 9 times. It was a glitch, thanks to the vagaries of the unsmart phone.

He reminded her and added that he read it. 9 times. Thinking that there may have been something else hidden in the text.

Exposed. They laughed.

After the fifth glass of wine she left her bike propped against the tree. Unlocked. They took a cab to a bar and opened the door on all things unsaid. It didn’t matter any more.

At 3am she walked home. Her breath damp. Like the grass in the deserted park. He stayed. Someone had to talk to the whiskey.

She whispered sweet nothings into her pillow then rolled over into a dreamless sleep.