Short Story|Cliché

This short story is written by Abbie Walden. Abbie is a reader, writer and illustrator dabbling in romantic fiction and blog posts. She hopes to develop her writing portfolio and tap back into her creativity.

‘I’ll call you straight after my hot yoga class :)’ I type as we rot in bed whilst watching John Wick for the sixtieth time. By ‘we’ I mean my partly gnawed Toblerone and I.

He’ll inevitably come over in an hour and I’ll have to wash my hair and fake my exhaustive workout. I will be that girl one day, just not today. He doesn’t need to know. He still doesn’t know that I ridiculously love and miss hash browns despite when we met two years ago I, and I still don’t know why, drunkenly made it clear to him that I loathe them so he must always eat my share. I honestly didn’t think he’d remember but it makes him so happy, I couldn’t possibly take that from him now.

By midnight, tummies full of homemade Thai food. We found ourselves dancing around my apartment to ‘This Thing’ by King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard. For four perfect minutes there was no conversation to be had, a pure distraction from life. Only dancing. Just two people absorbed in the music. I had never felt more content.

We awoke to the pitter-patter of rain. Bathing in the moonlight together on the braided rug we now shared with empty bottles of various gin. The moon a shimmery spotlight, projected through the tall Victorian window and onto our bodies. We talked into the morning about nothing and everything. We laughed. We put the world to rights. We argued back and forth that Billy Bear ham and courgette in a wok will not ever constitute a stir fry. He still maintains that it does.

That night I studied him in a way I never had before. I’ll always remember the way his eyes would light up when he spoke about a song he loved, how his hips swayed and head nodded simultaneously when he danced. These are the kinds of moments that may one day make your heart ache if you are so much as reminded of them. But for now, nothing else mattered.

‘There is one thing we won’t ever argue about,’ he rolls over, his eyes twinkling.

‘We both share a soft spot for Toblerone and hash browns, don’t we?’ He grins.

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