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.