Ash

1

Picture Frame, Lack Of Fame, Ignition

   It's the middle of winter. The sky is a cool steel blue, made up of a consistent layer of clouds, hanging, floating, unmoving. The kind of grey blue that you get late afternoon in the winter, when things start to dim down and everybody forgets that's it's not quite dinner time. Most of the trees and hedges dead skeletons in a milky sea. An interesting mixture of evergreens and non-evergreens, chalk and cheese, stars and stripes, almost dead and almost alive.

I live in a small, quiet hamlet, in the bony sticks of nowhere land where people normally go to retire and die. Cheerful, isn't it? Anyway that's not the point. The point is it's been nine months since I've had a meaningful intimate relationship with someone, or should I say, a good fuck. Back then it was all dates, heart filled words, sex and fun. But now it's all work, carb filled food, masterbation and boredom. An interesting change I must say.

It's getting darker now. A sleek dark steel blue, you know, like before but darker.

"Hey? Ash? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, sorry, I checked out there for a second." Silly me, looks like I must have fallen into an artsy dream for a second. "So 7 O'clock tonight? At the pub?"

"Uh-huh, I'll see you later. Don't fall asleep on the way over." She replies.

Well, looks like I just landed myself a date.

I turned up to the pub early, why not? I had nothing better to do. I went up to the bar and ordered a half pint of beer. Something off the pumps, something local. Half pint in hand I made my way over to one of the few drinking tables in the bar area. There's nothing like a pub that sets aside tables and areas for people to drink, rather than trying to ram in as many tables as they can for people to sit 3 feet from the bar to eat their cheap bought-in meals. I went for a pale ale, light, easy to drink, slightly fruity, not a can of pissy water.

I managed to drink a third of my drink while looking at the many pictures that decorated the walls of the bar. Pictures of the pub in years and decades gone past, pictures of regulars that had either passed away or still took to the pub to drink vigilantly with their friends. A framed piece of old carpet. But alas my dive into the vast past of a little cozy pub was interrupted, pleasantly, by my date. Birch.

"Hey, I see you've made yourself at home." She sat down opposite me

"Hard not to somewhere cozy and warm. Can I get you a drink?"

"Yeah, I'll have what you're having." A wink. Well we're getting somewhere.

2 or 3 beers down and hours gone past and here we are still talking, storytelling, explaining, exclaiming, flirting. Birch is a pretty girl, and as it turns out, even better, very interesting to talk to. So interesting in fact that, when it came to closing time, we were still seated, beer half drunk and absorbed into our conversation about how the unknown is much scarier than the fully described. We finished our drinks, said our thanks and our apologies to the barmaid who, as all service staff have to, smiled and made out it wasn't a problem.

Out we went into the cold, crisp night. Fog heavy, spirits light. The fog so heavy that you could barely see more than a bar's length away. Funny right? We left each other with promises of seeing each other soon and a quick kiss. She got into a cab she had called earlier and waved goodbye. I pulled out a cigarette and lit up before waving back, a bone chilling cold walk home awaiting me.

With the short haul home over and the nicotine rush burning low I decided to get into bed. Not the glamorous, brush my teeth, do my hair, post a picture on my blog and blow myself a kiss in the mirror kind of getting into bed. More the strip naked, drop everything on the floor and get into bed smelling of smoke, beer and sweat kind of getting into bed. All the while hazy and numb from alcohol, low burning nicotine and sweet, hot, lust. Eyelids ever heavier, thighs slightly wetter, I fall asleep. Somewhere off in the distance a girl whispers my name, eyelids not as heavy and thighs not as dry.