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Click hereThis is my second story in the 750 Word Project 2023. Be advised that it is not a sexual story but more of an emotional one. Thanks to 29wordsforsnow, AlinaX and Mal_Bey for beta-reading and editing.
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I found Mark in the car-park, leaned up against a wall. It looked like a standard smoking break, but I could sense the despondency and approached with caution.
"So, I just heard. About Kurt, I mean," I said.
"Never mention that dickhead's name again," growled Mark looking up.
"Okay, I'll do you a deal. I'll say no more and you sign a 22-B waiver saying that you've refused my mandatory best-friend post-breakup emotional support. I'll go back and print the form in the office, shall I?"
Mark snorted. "Cute. But you've got the wrong person. You'd need Shawna to sign and I regret to inform you, she jumped off Tower Bridge last night."
"That's horrible." I'd never heard Mark talk like this before.
"Okay, fine. You know what? She got a job at an adorable kitten rescue shelter in Brighton and is marrying a big strong veterinarian with flecks of grey in his beard and wonderfully soft hands. Happy?"
"If I can visit and give her a hug," I said.
"Why would she need a hug? I just told you she got her happily ever fucking after. Besides some of those animals are very sick and there's quarantine."
"Okay, how's Mark then? Does he need a hug?"
Unlike Shawna, Mark had never been the hugging type especially at work. I was offered a cigarette instead and lit up.
"It's a pity," I said after a couple of drags. "I was hoping to spend more time with her. I was under the impression she was moving in with us more-or-less full time. Maybe even getting a job here, one day. I liked her. I thought you did too. She was fun."
"Shawna - all the fun, all the time," said Mark bitterly. "You know that was only because she wasn't a real fucking person, right?"
"She was to me. At least she became one. I know it took me a while at first, but six months in and she's way more open to me than you ever are."
"Nah, she was a first draft. A sketch. No, not even that. She was tracing paper over someone else's picture of their ideal woman. Always too busy trying to work out what men, whathe, wanted her to be. Always fooled by all that 'real ladies always wear heels' and 'real ladies don't drink lager' crap."
"Yeah, well, we all put on an act, don't we? For the opposite sex. A swagger. Then we get the fuck over ourselves."
All I got from Mark was an "I guess."
My work here clearly wasn't done. I took a moment to regroup.
"Happy Shawna - sad Mark, yeah, that I get," I said. "Shawna needs to learn to cry around friends sometimes. And shout. She can't always leave her emotional laundry for Mark to do the next day."
"I told you Shawna's not coming back. Dead or kittens or whatever bullshit story we're going with," said Mark.
"Okay, well, let's suppose she is dead," I said. "How about we hold a funeral? I guess we'll never find the body, so we take her clothes and hair out into the garden and we burn them. Then we'll all stand wiping our eyes while you give the eulogy saying what finding her meant to you and how empty your life will be without her. And we'll all rally round and remind ourselves of all the good times we had together."
"You're an arsehole, you know. You know I bawl my eyes out at that the M*A*S*H movie." Mark had opened up just a crack, but I needed more.
"Or how about this? Maybe Shawna really is just going away to play with the kittens. Let's throw her a leaving party and go and get completely smashed. If she wants to cry into her pint all evening, well, who could blame her? Then, come closing, we see her off at Blackfriars and do that cliché movie thing where we all run along the platform waving as the train pulls away."
"And what? Mark gets off at Croydon and takes the Tube home?"
"If it's Mark, it's Mark. Come on though, you know deep down how this movie ends."
Mark cracked a half smile as he stubbed out his cigarette. "You don't half get some soppy ideas."
"I'll round up the gang for tonight," I said with relief.
Omg, I just want more of this. I want Shawna's going away party. I want Shawna's triumphant return from the kitten clinic. Please give me something more.
Sometimes there's understanding, sometimes there's not.
Unfortunately, in this instance, the latter group outweigh the former. Cudos for trying, though.