THE ITALIAN BARMAN WHO WATCHED AS SHE PLAYED PIANO

She walked into the pub and asked: 'do you have free wifi?', in which the barman replied, 'yes'. She then proceeded to set up her laptop and workbook around a newly coated table and old chesterfield sofa. 'Don't worry, i'll buy a drink in a second', she reassured the man. They both laughed.

She knew she didn't HAVE to explain herself, but she felt the need to. That's who she was. She was the reassurer.

ABYSMAL CYMBAL

As she got off of the bus, she purposely decided not to step on the shadow of a cross that was made on the ground by a lamppost reflecting over a rectangular road sign. She wondered why she made such an effort to not tread on this symbol.

Why was she so respectful of a symbol that meant nothing to her?

She fast-walked home, because she knew she was later than she had told her parents she would be. She wanted to move out every day.

The reason - so obvious. She was constantly treading on crosses at home.

She wished she could tell every new person she met to not be scared of how truthful she was. to not call her weird in the wrong way. to take everything she said seriously, because even jokes have truth in them. to not hold back on anything. to not be the person who says: 'oh no, it's nothing, don't worry.' to be able to talk freely with her. to be themselves around her. even if they would never meet again. so at least she would know that she had a true conversation. so she would know that at that moment, they were truly themselves.

How could she look up to her now?

11:25pm. Pinks was home earlier than usual. As she walked up the stairs, she was surprised to see the light was still on in her room. She shared the room with her sister who was always asleep when she came home. Her sister was older than her by 3 years. They had their ups and downs. They were closer at earlier stages in their lives. Now, they joked here and there. 

She opened the door to see her sister, Sweetie, applying lipstick slowly in front of the wardrobe mirror.  

Sweetie asked: 'does this colour suit me?' in which Pinks kindly yet truthfully, as always, replied: 'not really, it's too bright.' Sweetie continued: 'you know, I think I've perfected how to wear lipstick, and now I'm going onto foundation.'  

Sweetie saw the immediate shock in her sister's face. She knew Pinks was disappointed in her. So she quickly decided to explain herself as if she knew she was in the wrong and needed to prove her point.  

'It's a part of growing up. THIS IS WHAT YOU DO. You know, it might sound stupid but I've noticed, even in the work place, looks really DO matter.' 

As these words were being forced out of Sweetie's mouth, Pinks thought about how much her sister had changed. They were once on the same page when it came down to wearing make-up. –They both agreed they’d never wear it. What was once their strong, shared view, was now like empty promises their elder sister used to make to them. 

She quickly felt alone. Everything had just changed. 

Pinks walked slowly back to her bed. She had never felt more disgusted by her sister's words than that moment. How could she mutter such nonsense? Was her sister implying that, she, too, would have to start wearing make-up, as it was a part of ‘growing up’? 

How could she look up to her now? Not that she ever did, past the age of 15. 

She felt betrayed. She WAS betrayed. The only belief she shared with her sister was now shattered. Just like their relationship. The little closeness they had, was now fading even more. 

'Well, goodnight Pinks' said Sweetie apologetically. 

'Okay, goodnight' Pinks replied. She was a mixture of disgraced, angry, and most of all, sad. 

the new and distant driver

She got into the taxi and was shocked to see an African driver, instead of her usual Asian one. Shocked is an overstatement. She just wasn’t expecting it. She wasn’t used to change. She thought to herself for a split second: ‘am I racist?’ She knew she wasn’t but she still questioned it, just like everything else in life.  

To break the awkward silence as she got into the car, she said with excitement: ‘your car smells like cherries!’ This just made the silence more awkward, as the man didn’t respond.

As the new and distant driver started driving, he, too, could feel the silence. So he decided to turn the radio on to fill in the gaps of what he thought could have been a shit conversation with a customer he’d never see again.

OG African music started playing. He instantly changed the channel. From afrobeat to British news.

Why did he change it? Was he embarrassed of the music he liked? Was he embarrassed of his culture, his heritage? Did he think she would be disgusted by it? If only he knew how much she liked and appreciated this genre. If only he knew she was going to see Femi Kuti at a festival the next day.

He pulls up just before her house and turns the radio off. She pays him the usual - £4.50, and exits the vehicle.

She hears him turn the radio on again. Not British news this time.

kindness goex a long weigh

'Kindness really does go a long way', she thought to herself as she recalled a moment that proved to her that people do appreciate the little things.

As she waited to use the only ladies toilets in the academy, Adam walked, seemingly carefree, out of the guys toilets. They exchanged warm, yet longing smiles. And he asked, before leaving the building: 'you not coming?', a platonic invitation to join him; in which she replied jokingly: 'i'm not just standing here for no reason'. They both laughed and said their farewells.

She smiled, again, this time to herself and at the fact that someone who didn't have much significance to her, showed her compassion.

She realised that he was nice to her because, well, she was nice to him.

She remembered that she always said 'hi' to him even though he was shy and rarely ever said it first. She also recalled the time she liked a post on Facebook where he had exclaimed his happiness over getting great grades in his previous course. He appreciated that.

As she entered the toilet, she thought again: 'it's the little things that count'.

marriage.

Everyone has that random business pen. You don’t know where you got it from; you didn’t buy it, nor did you steal it. It’s just a pen, really, until you read the logo. And even then, it’s still just a pen. Like life.

Its 9:15pm. She sits in class hoping for her lecturer to finish early so she can catch an earlier train home. As the lecturer gives his twelfth anecdote, at least, of the night, her eyes wonder down to her pen. The pen she had been using on and off throughout the course. She was semi-loyal to it.

Fading in and out of a communal class discussion, she began to analyse the pen. - Red. Thick. Black ink. It wrote: ‘CHOCORAMA LTD – SPECIALISTS IN WEDDINGS’. This made her think about marriage.

At one point she liked to think that she would get married. And in the long run, it would be a successful marriage. She really did believe in the concept of it. But recently, she realised that a lot of things don’t work out, and that the concept of it, in general, sounded very suffocating and theist to her.

She did, however, believe in ‘love at first sight’. Although she hadn’t witnessed it first-hand, she believed it could happen. It’s funny because she didn’t believe in being with someone ‘forever’, for more than obvious reasons. And she couldn’t quite grasp the idea of a ‘soul mate’, probably because she was still contemplating whether or not a soul was in the equation of life and death. But she did believe in love.

Her parents - always close to divorce. How could she ever believe in marriage?

DON’T LIVE IN REGRET. ACT IN THE NOW.

She hit the dance floor and was met with a compliment on her dance moves by a handsome stranger. As she danced freely to funk music, one of her favourite genres, the stranger laughed: ‘I like you’.  This instantly reminded her of another incident where these exact words were muttered. An incident that saw regret in her eyes. An incident that she remembered so clearly.

She was at that stage in uni where you mingle with different groups of people to see whom you get along with and where you fit in. She wore her System Of A Down t-shirt and played table tennis better than everyone else. He wore a Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt and admired both her taste in music and her athleticism.  She made a joke whilst playing and he laughed with: ‘I like you’.

She always wanted to speak to him more as she knew they’d both get along well. But they were in different cliques at this stage of uni now. And she thought it was too late to start a conversation.

She snaps back to the dance floor.

It clicked. – DON’T LIVE IN REGRET. ACT IN THE NOW.

So she danced with this handsome stranger until it was time for her to leave for work.

I'M GOING TO START WRITING IN THIRD PERSON NOW. IT'S MORE INTERESTING IN PROSE. FIRST PERSON IS BORING, BUT PUT YOURSELF IN THIRD PERSON AND YOU'VE GOT YOURSELF A BEST SELLER.

'PUT YOURSELF IN THIRD PERSON AND YOU'VE GOT YOURSELF A BEST SELLER' - POSSIBLE NAME OF A BOOK I MAY OR MAY NOT PUBLISH IN THE FUTURE.