you and me POSTCARD #25
This postcard was sent anonymously. Thank you for the amazing illustration in biro and pencil. I can’t tell you how much I love it. Send me a note and fess up if you like so I can smother you in candy.*
(* I don’t actually have any candy but I hear offering it to strangers works a treat)
Rockstars Without Music
This house smells like burned toast.
Dave looks at Sal.
Why’d you always have to shit on everything?
She slits her eyes and he gets ready. She’s a feral cat when she’s pissed. But instead of her usual snap, she walks ahead into the living room where the party is.
She doesn’t look back and his step falters, like he might trip. This was bullshit. This wasn’t how it usually went. She knew how to dish it right back. Not walk away silently, making him feel like the arsehole.
Adam waves them over with a joint and she perches on the edge of his armchair while taking it out of his hands.
The beers are in the bathtub, D–man.
Adam says and slides his hand around Sal’s waist. She takes another toke and flips her hair showing the scar that’s usually hidden beneath her fringe. It cuts across her forehead and down her cheek. It must have missed her eye by millimetres.
Dave pushes through the crowd dancing to shit music and couples making out in the hallway. At first he thought the scar was hot. Hardcore. But she wouldn’t tell him how it happened. After a while he stopped giving a shit.
A girl’s bent over the tub in hotpants and his shoulders loosen as he leans over to grab a couple of stubbies. His hands plunge into the ice and she doesn’t move as his hard-on brushes against her bare thigh.
He walks back into the living room, smirking. This party might be all right, if they just sorted out the music. His grin slips when he sees Adam coming back into the room with a plate of what looks like burned toast. It falls completely when he pops a piece into Sal’s grinning mouth.