I’m glad this week is over.
Under the weather. Whole nine yards. X marks the spot. You can say that again. Take the cake.
Standing out in the storm I’m starting to feel a bit under the weather. There is a whole nine yards between me and shelter but you’re there, standing there with your friends. When they finally leave I come in, drenched and insecure. Your inked skin is beading with moisture – you look at me as if I’m insane.
“What were you doing out there?”
“Oh,” I am examining your tattoos, particularly the one on your neck – x marks the spot where I…
“I’m glad you’re here, I just have to take the cake over to a customer and then I’m all yours for the night.”
I’m aware that I’m staring, “Should I get dinner then?”
“You can, say that again for me.”
“Should I get dinner?”
You smile, “When exactly did you get paid?”
I turn my head away. You laugh, “I’ll bring something home.”