THIS TIME OF YEAR

‘You don’t recognise him do you?’ she said.
‘He looks a little different.’
‘We were standing by the fire,’ he said and pointed.
‘You could roast a liver on that fire.’
‘What was that about a liver?’ said the husband to the wife.
‘Something from last night,’ she said and turned away in disgust.
...a cold flush of shame...
...oh, how I loathe myself...
...fucking weirdo...
...why do I have to open my mouth, say things...
...if I never spoke to anyone again it’d save so much humiliation...
She held me, whispered in my ear, ‘I’m going back with them, there might be someone else, there might not.’
‘Are you kidding me?”
‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s a very unusual sighting this time of year.’

FIREWORKS