you still owe me $30.

Friday. 11:37am.

 

It's morning.

I can tell it's morning, becuase I can hear the neighbor's peacocks. Every morning, the peacocks Bri's neighbor keeps, start screaming at the fences and attempt a jailbreak. This morning, the peacocks tell me that what just happened was a dream, Bri will still be laying next to me and Mal will be nowhere in sight. This also tells me that i just had a dream about my girlfriend and her ex. I open my eyes to reassure my assesment.

 

Bri's gone.

No Mal either,

but Bri's gone.

 

Perhaps she went to work, maybe she's in the bathroom. She may even be making me breakfast. I think about these things and remind myself of my unruly optimism and procilivity towards naievity. I roll over to her side of the mattress that sits on her chipped hardword floor, and look over to the stack of unwashed laundry, empty Sparks cans, and a stick of Against Me! and 7 Seconds vinyl. There is a letter standing in the crotch of the pile that is my balled up jeans.

I already know what it says.

 

The peacocks are singing their morning song, I take it in for what I assume will be the last time i will hear them.

 

Bri is impetuous.

She's impulsive.

Kind of what I like about her,

 

but i should have seen this coming.

 

I take in the smell of her pillows, as I'm sure it will be the last time I lay my head to rest on them.

 

I wrap the blanket around myself.

I smoke a cigarette, getting ash all over the bed, and drop the butt in a bottle of water when I'm done, hoping she won't notice it before she takes a swig. Time to read the letter.

 

"Bill,

If theres anything here of yours that you want i suggest to take it with you when you leave.

please dont be here when i come back. its easier this way. for all of us.

please dont take this personally. i just dont want anyone clinging to me.

im sorry.

 

bri.

 

p.s. you still owe me $30. dont call unless its about that. sorry"

 

The peacocks, have given up, they've stopped shouting, as I decide to light another cigarette. I pulled myself up off of the mattress, pulled on my jeans and surveyed the area for my belongings.

 

2 Bob Dylan records.

1 Jack Micheline chapbook.

1 Charles Bukowski collection of poems.

1 Bottle Sailor Jerry Rum (actually hers)

2 shirts

1 dvd (one flew over the cuckoo's nest)

1 vhs (jurassic park)

 

I feel no guilt in taking her rum, but i leave the books. The only reason for which i can come up with, is so whoever the other guy is, knows I have taste. He'll know for damn sure that they aren't hers. I leave a shirt as well, after i cleaned up a mess she'll never know about.

 

I walk outside and throw my things into to car like a parking ticket, and begin to say goodbye to all the cats that surround her house. Especially Pliars.

 

I really liked that one.

 

As I pulled out of the driveway, I noticed her neighbor's fence was down, and there were no peacocks in sight. B******s actually got out.

 

I took that as a good omen, and drove into the day.

 

Reviews

[Boyd Johnson]

bring on the latvians haha

[Logan Carryall]

Typos Typos Typos. But other than that I like what you got here. Clean it up before I send a Latvian to do it for you.