THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
I start the day with a phone call from a boy I was in love with for months while I'm still lying in bed- and feel nothing. He needs help, I help him.
You're wearing a different suit, you shaved. There's a weird thing hanging in the air today. I can't tell what it is, but I sit and try to work, accomplish nothing. I don't want to talk, I don't want to be quiet. I talk to you when you come in to sit with me.
We're sitting in a pub outside Soho. It's not the one we usually end up in, but it's the one we all like more. You are clearly losing control, you have been all day, I've been watching you- and you're not talking to me. Not when we're out or on the way over.
I feel hazy from drinking too much too early on. They've been casually discussing your sex life all afternoon. This is irritating you, but you do keep going off with the girls- and the friends I'm with talk about the others- Other girls
They say, watching you walk out for a cigarette with a girl I don't really know, and roll their eyes, 'He tries it on with everyone- Everyone except you'
I say, 'No, he actually likes me.'
We watch the door close. They say, 'You're probably right.'