by Mark Ralph-Bowman
It goes dark at 11.43. I’d fixed the toilet. Flushed a whirlpool. Not completely dark. Like the Hollywood blue nighttime filter. I see Amy out there. Two doors down. All tits and brown eyes. In the street.
– What’s going on, Will? She asks when I rock up. Cool as Smithy.
– Like I know, man? I just flushed and. Well.
– You flushed the toilet?
– Yeah. I fixed it.
– Awesome.
She scratches at the pink nobble of a button on her blouse. Looking away into the midnight blue. Up where the library was. Kia dealership now. I’m wondering what she’s thinking. No. I’m wondering if she’s thinking. Like I do. Blokes. You know. Every three seconds.
– You play that game? She asks. When you was a kid? What would you do if you knew the world was ending?
– Oh, yeah.
Where’s this going I think.
– What did you say?
– Depended?
– On?
– If there was girls.
– And if there was?.
– We talking back then?
– Whenever.
I look up at the sky. Getting darker. No stars up there. But I can see just fine. Probably my eyes adjusting. They do. Fifteen minutes it takes.
– Whenever? She says. Then or now.
– Back then it woulda been I’d find the girl I never told and I’d tell her.
– What? What would you tell her?
– You’ve got the most amazing eyes.
– What if she didn’t have?
– You’ve got the most amazing eyes.
Her smile breaks out like a timelapse flower opening. Lips glossy as Ramiro pepper skins. The tiniest mole, all on its own at the end of the line of her eyebrow. A full stop.
Mark has been involved in education and performance in Uganda, Nigeria and the UK, enabling writing and performing opportunities for people of all ages. He writes plays for both adults and young people, has a novel nearing completion and writes short stories. He is currently preparing a touring production of his play “With You Always”. He tweets @Emahbea.