No Cygnet for Sleep: 6
‘No Cygnet for Sleep’ contains strong language, sexual scenes, drug use, and gore.
Nothing But Wool
By Jivan Ward
She text me rearrange date seem concern. Agree place agree time better late than never. Now make sure I don’t wait aim be five ten late and go table and sit and talk, awesome. Indo-Chinese fusion or spice heaven ever prefer. Hardly far hardly packed waitress say Take a seat I’ll be with you soon. I early again. Look out high street shop window flush grey rain patter puddle legs pass and past they walk out fathom out perception out page into elsewhere. Chair screech she sit down in front me say Hi stranger. Cringe I say Hey, how’re you? She twenty year of grey-tint-yellow-plaque and start about bus drivers and puddles and complain there’s rain in London.
Waitress menu ask for drinks beer for me Cee say, Water’s fine. Waitress nod like happy-apathy. I ask about job or Uni she say Job. I ask house mates or parents she say Oh just parents. Look down to menu she might angry for stand-up wait for me apologise. Sincere I do. No bother she say no worry. No ice breaker either. She start about tempura say It’s just battered why not just say that? Bite back cynicism sometime I wonder if correct too much grammar and fact but why say stupid when you can Google or say nothing at all. Brow furrow and shrink back in chair I say, Sorry long day, and exhale and breathe in manner says funny-apathy. She repeat. I laugh I reply along some supportive border and Cee start complain about how restaurants take too long for drinks to starters to main, and too quick for dessert. There deep inner yawn that I feel like bubble rise up from deep like quiet rage. Wish she talk about something interesting, not complain, not moan, maybe ask me something. Why not she ask me about myself? Just talk about hers and complain and complain.
Art way she yawn in morning and she talk about aesthetic of sunlight break through wooden slates from blinds by window. She up and stretch and make coffee with cinnamon. She read news on edge of bed and spring roll steam veg fall to Cee’s chin. She look to plate embarrassed and Ané strokes tablet delicate concentrate and our cutlery chatter more than Cee and Ané dress straight marble line down neck to heel and Cee look awkward, wait for me to speak. Ané posit and ask me.
Cee ignite preference from doubt. Ané ignite fatuity to acumen. No man for girl, I rather woman.
Ané: I’ve always got time for you 😉
Jivan Ward was born and reared in London, where he learnt that there’s more to life than what surrounds you. Stumbling out of a tumultuous passion for music, into the corridors of libraries and the dank recesses of fiction, he began writing poetry and short stories before going to university to study the craft and art of writing. Tit led to tat and he works in retail and is currently writing a novel and running a blog. He believes the internet is a force of neutrality and that the publishing industry should invest more in its authors than its devices.
For more Information on this Series, Visit: No Cygnet for Sleep: An Introduction
To Follow the Entire Series, Visit: No Cygnet for Sleep: Jivan Ward