15.1.13

A vaguely familiar tune (fiction)

"Oh hell, those chips look good," she watched a woman clad in black eating a plateful of the thick chunks of friend potato, smothered in tomato ketchup. She watched as one by one the chips were raised to the smiling lipstick covered lips, chewed and then were swallowed. 

She thought of her shrinking waistline, and that she could if she really eat a few. But then she retreated, and thought about the kilos left to go while her husband told her it wasn't working for him and that once the ferry docked in Helsinki he'd be going his own way.

The band played a waltz - a vaguely familiar tune and she watched the chips as his spoke just above the sound of the music.

He reiterated how much he had once loved her and explained how she’d changed and asked why she couldn’t go back to the way she was before. 

She thought of the new black jeans she was wearing, and exactly how much she’d changed.

His beer was long since flat, her white wine spritzer forgotten. They’d been sitting, watching the band for nearly two hours and soon they’d be back in Helsinki and he’d leave her. 

"Let's dance?" she proposed as the next vaguely familiar waltz began.



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