Walker

Had drinks with an old friend and her hubby last night. It was good to see her again; some fragment of a past that almost feels like it no longer belongs to me; a time when things were simpler.

I was returning her some glasses (read : beer mugs) she'd passed me for safekeeping when she left the UK.

Somewhere in the pile I found a mug that my mum had apparently secreted away from me.

It looked naggingly familiar; took a little bit of thought to breach the barriers of time and senility, and then the suppressed memories returned and I remembered who had given it to me, as a birthday present, a lifetime ago.

The Other side - why do you need a reason? Gary Larson. Who else.

I'd never drunk from it before. Figured, what the hell; nothing really matters anymore, nothing. And so I did, for the first time in my life; a cup of 100% proof non-alcoholic tea at Klee, and it was sweet.

Turned the cup over idly as we talked, and realised I'd never really looked closely at it before as I read : product of New South Wales, Australia.

Always assumed it'd been bought for me while She was back here; never expected that it had once travelled the friendly skies with a personal medical escort.

*****
Seems Gmail is so intelligent it now tries to protect us from emotionally destabilizing emails.

Remember some years back they revealed their secret behind gmail's success - pigeonrank.

*****
...---...

And so, during the brief fifteen minutes that is my lunch break today I find myself walking out of hospital, just walking. I want to walk as far away as I can, just keep walking, and walking. And I need a double-shot whisky so, so bad. And I don't want to turn around ever. Can't let them see my eyes.

But the old man is in clinic, alone, and he needs the help. Fucking responsibility.

Duty calls, and I have to answer, as much as I feel like I can't.

Closest thing to a whisky, teh ahlia. Nothing alcoholic within range of the hospital at this hour anyway.

So here I am. This is me, drowning in the infinity queue.

*****
I remember messaging MM to ask what she made of a guy out alone having a drink on a friday evening, too devil may carish to bother seeking company; she made it fear of rejection; that actually made me laugh. But she doesn't understand, unsurprisingly since I haven't said anything vaguely revealing.

Well that moment's here again; I need a drink bad; I need to be alone.