By Henry Bladon
One night stands always seem to have their moments. Once I was busy preparing breakfast – which I considered a thoughtful gesture – and a girl demanded to know why I didn’t have bacon to go with the eggs. She was serious because she screeched. It’s an odd word, I know, but it fits. She actually screeched the words. With feeling.
I have melon, I said. (It still sounds pathetic, even now.)
Melon? Fuck off, she said. (More screeching.) What a loser! She snatched her bag and coat off the side and wrestled her feet into her stilettoes. I think I heard what the fuck as she dashed out. She slammed the door as she left.
After I finished eating the melon, I didn’t fancy the eggs any more so left them in the pan. Then I went shopping for bacon.
I wasn’t going to get caught out like that again.
Henry Bladon is based in Somerset in the UK. He is a writer of short fiction and poetry and teaches creative writing for therapeutic purposes. He has degrees in psychology and mental health policy, and a Ph.D. in literature and creative writing. His work can be seen in O:JA&L, Forth Magazine, Tuck Magazine, Mercurial Stories, The Ekphrastic Review, and Spillwords Press, among other places.