he seemed very nice, somehow

Heavy soft-box rain. The light was unreal in how beautiful it was. I took my glasses off at the bus-stop, didn’t put them back on until I found myself at work. It made me less nervous than I thought it would.

A girl standing on the bus leaned towards me, stage-whispered, “I like your hair.” as I passed her. I whispered back, “thank you” and sat down, unable to see her face. At Broadway Station, rain caught sharply on the flowers, a sudden unexpected illusion of clarity – the light from the petals stung my blindness like metal splinters.

I fidgeted with my hands on the train, unable to read without my glasses on. How do other people sit for so long without a book? A man sitting across from me seemed to be staring, but I couldn’t make it out. I wondered if my inability to focus gave me away as blind until another man, deliberate business casual, brown shoes, inoffensive glasses, crouched down at my feet to gently whisper, “I have to tell you.” I nodded, yes, willing to swear I had never met him before. Very quietly, solemnly, he whispered, “the way you look gives me an erection” into my ear. I whispered the same reply to him as I did to the girl on the bus, then he nodded, still looking grave, stood up and exited the car.

Work, so far, has not been a tenth as interesting.

on the heels of the inevitable “I’m not in love with you” phonecall which always makes me spit black


To whoever it was so thoughtfully tucked the pair of condoms down next to my bed?

Incredibly bad taste. Poor taste. Poor timing. You lose. I will find you. You won’t like it when I do.