throat, dry and unsatisfying.
“Blondee.” Tanned’s voice called through the doorway. He wouldn’t be able to see Frederick, no-one had seen me spending all this time with Frederick. They would have said we were lovers, but we weren’t fucking. We were physical, sure enough, but any caress was with arms, torsos, even legs: nothing below the waist, nothing above the thigh. The curtains were ever closed.
“Blondee.”
I swallowed as quickly as I could. Frederick didn’t stir.
“Tanned. I’m coming.”
“You’d better,” his voice sounded unnatural.
I stepped outside, the light grazing my eyes. Outside it was more vibrant: even the heat it gave was purple. It felt purple. The dusty grass was tinged with it, the wall was a gentle lilac, our skins dark.
“Did you ever see the sky like this?” I asked.
“I just felt like seeing you.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I need to talk.”
“Is it about Burberry?” I often imagined them as twins.
Tanned didn’t respond, instead looking upwards, his eyes glinting an alien colour.
“So what’s up with her?” I tried, “With you and her?”
With false reluctance he answered.
In all fairness I tried to concentrate. I tried to force my mind to focus. Tanned and Burberry fought, more often these days than ever, and the fights were usually the same and they were usually banal. Maybe it was just the way couples were, or maybe they really didn’t get along and stayed together so as not to stand out in a world of partners. That was understandable.
“So what did she say?”
And Tanned talked about how she had been unreasonable and how he had tried to talk to her and how she would never really understand. And I nodded because it was friendly and fought the urge to glance back at the triangle hut.
Tanned told me how she had thrown old milk over him.
I wasn’t unsympathetic, I felt for him. I could deal with the emotion but not the details. They were too familiar. I waited until he had finished talking and placed two of my fingers on his hand, as many as I could get away with. It was some restrained attempt at comfort.
“Talk to her.”
“I will.”
“You two will work things out.”
“We will.”
“Don’t forget, you can always talk to me, if you need to.”
Talk to your partner about your problems.
Code of love. Page 18.
Problems can always be sorted out, don’t give up on your love.
Code of. Page 18.
Don’t forget, talk to Blondee, go to Blondee for sympathy.
The last one wasn’t in there. I meant it though. I waited until Tanned had disappeared behind the hut of the old-dead-woman before I returned to my own. Inside Frederick had slumped over, his beard stuck to the lino.
For the first time I ate cake. It was mostly icing, piled thick and creamy atop crumble-dry bread. Frederick had given it to me. He awoke and we ate it together: the sky was purple—that was surely a special enough reason to eat such a delicacy. We ate it quietly. I ran my fingers through the icing, piling fluffy clouds on my fingertips and licking them away.
“Blondee.” A voice at the door.
“Tanned, you’re back already?”
“It’s Pilsner.”
“Oh, sorry. Pilsner,” I responded. Frederick gave a look of panic and tried to cover himself with one of my blankets. “I’ll be out now,” I called.
Outside the light was dimmer, less brilliant.
“What do you make of this then? I’ve seen nothing like it, not since the world began.” Pilsner’s voice was flat as ever.
“It’s pretty.”
“Well some think it means something. They’re gathered now in the courtyard.”
“You’re not there.”
“I don’t think it means much, not really.” There was a pause before Pilsner resumed pressing words through dry cracked lips. “Haven’t seen you around there much. Not lately.”
“I’ve been feeling private lately.”
“Right. And have you seen anything of young Frederick? He also seems to have been feeling
“Blondee.” Tanned’s voice called through the doorway. He wouldn’t be able to see Frederick, no-one had seen me spending all this time with Frederick. They would have said we were lovers, but we weren’t fucking. We were physical, sure enough, but any caress was with arms, torsos, even legs: nothing below the waist, nothing above the thigh. The curtains were ever closed.
“Blondee.”
I swallowed as quickly as I could. Frederick didn’t stir.
“Tanned. I’m coming.”
“You’d better,” his voice sounded unnatural.
I stepped outside, the light grazing my eyes. Outside it was more vibrant: even the heat it gave was purple. It felt purple. The dusty grass was tinged with it, the wall was a gentle lilac, our skins dark.
“Did you ever see the sky like this?” I asked.
“I just felt like seeing you.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I need to talk.”
“Is it about Burberry?” I often imagined them as twins.
Tanned didn’t respond, instead looking upwards, his eyes glinting an alien colour.
“So what’s up with her?” I tried, “With you and her?”
With false reluctance he answered.
In all fairness I tried to concentrate. I tried to force my mind to focus. Tanned and Burberry fought, more often these days than ever, and the fights were usually the same and they were usually banal. Maybe it was just the way couples were, or maybe they really didn’t get along and stayed together so as not to stand out in a world of partners. That was understandable.
“So what did she say?”
And Tanned talked about how she had been unreasonable and how he had tried to talk to her and how she would never really understand. And I nodded because it was friendly and fought the urge to glance back at the triangle hut.
Tanned told me how she had thrown old milk over him.
I wasn’t unsympathetic, I felt for him. I could deal with the emotion but not the details. They were too familiar. I waited until he had finished talking and placed two of my fingers on his hand, as many as I could get away with. It was some restrained attempt at comfort.
“Talk to her.”
“I will.”
“You two will work things out.”
“We will.”
“Don’t forget, you can always talk to me, if you need to.”
Talk to your partner about your problems.
Code of love. Page 18.
Problems can always be sorted out, don’t give up on your love.
Code of. Page 18.
Don’t forget, talk to Blondee, go to Blondee for sympathy.
The last one wasn’t in there. I meant it though. I waited until Tanned had disappeared behind the hut of the old-dead-woman before I returned to my own. Inside Frederick had slumped over, his beard stuck to the lino.
For the first time I ate cake. It was mostly icing, piled thick and creamy atop crumble-dry bread. Frederick had given it to me. He awoke and we ate it together: the sky was purple—that was surely a special enough reason to eat such a delicacy. We ate it quietly. I ran my fingers through the icing, piling fluffy clouds on my fingertips and licking them away.
“Blondee.” A voice at the door.
“Tanned, you’re back already?”
“It’s Pilsner.”
“Oh, sorry. Pilsner,” I responded. Frederick gave a look of panic and tried to cover himself with one of my blankets. “I’ll be out now,” I called.
Outside the light was dimmer, less brilliant.
“What do you make of this then? I’ve seen nothing like it, not since the world began.” Pilsner’s voice was flat as ever.
“It’s pretty.”
“Well some think it means something. They’re gathered now in the courtyard.”
“You’re not there.”
“I don’t think it means much, not really.” There was a pause before Pilsner resumed pressing words through dry cracked lips. “Haven’t seen you around there much. Not lately.”
“I’ve been feeling private lately.”
“Right. And have you seen anything of young Frederick? He also seems to have been feeling
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