23 December, 2014
by Rachelle Eldar
Entertainment Editor
A whimper and a grimace,
my knuckles crack and bleed from the cold.
Spinning head and lurching stomach,
the smell of butter on your breath.
I don’t need a drink.
Or two.
Or three.
Sleepy eyes, you didn’t notice the clock turn.
I noticed the clock turn.
Bustling cinema, empty gestures.
A miscommunication, and
no goodbye.