Monday, 21 November 2016

Throughly Modern Myriam.

all things are held together thus


There’s a name.

A bit old fashioned no?

She has a tattoo on her shoulder that looks as if it drifts down her back.

It drifts over the front too, and down her side.

I guess.

Thoroughly modern Myriam.

She smiles when she says your name, that’s a good touch.

And she laughs a lot.

A good sign.

No ring on her finger – that means nothing, but no one else seems to be around.

There are two bikes leaning against the front of her house though.

Maybe she has a kid.

Maybe two.

Is she old enough?


Too old?


How old is she?

No idea.

30? Thirty something. Forty?

I don’t think so.

My daughter does, she says that Myriam has grey hair.

I think it’s streaked.

I think Myriam works out too – though this has nothing to do with the colour of her hair.

More to do with the fact that now I’m staring.

So I accept another cup of the coffee that she is offering.

She says my name again.

And smiles.

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