Kym kulps Art
He Said:
Horse shit. This relationship is turning into it. Before her insomnia, before her therapy, before the sessions with the Chinese energy Master, we were kinda friends. Now she talks about the negative chi and sips herbal tea and I wanna pound a big Mac and a Coke and go for a jog round the block. What does she expect me to do? Change to suit whatever trip she's on now so she can go to sleep at night? I'm not that guy. I have no aspiration to ever be. I drift when she talks about "her experience". I start to notice how pretty the barrista is. I try to calculate how many phone calls I will need to dodge for her to get that this new and improved version of her is not someone I'm interested in hanging with. She pauses, I nod and stare at my coffee. She exhales and goes on. I'm sure her journey is precious. I hope it takes her somewhere good. Meanwhile, flag me down the next cab, I need to get out of here.
She Said:
I should explain. I've been away, in hiding really. I crawled under a deserted rock, curled up and died. I didn't need food, inspiration or release. I was dead after all. I slept for hours, or maybe days, a long dreamless slumber. Then a quiet sound woke me up. At first it tapped softly, like a faint knock at the door you're not sure you heard. But it soon transformed, into a heavy dripping, a leaky tap you forgot to turn tight. Finally, a grating noise, it started to gnaw at my insides. And as I was pulled back to everything tired and familiar, I felt very much alive - and needed to refuel.
