Happy Anniversary
(a tale of a day quite almost the same as the day)Dismal into-dusk shop-lights. First clang of autumn. The entire evening collapsing into grim smokiness, dreams and vague outlines of them increasingly obscured, remnants of things that might still and that used to be true. Replicas of them. Endless sense of almost memories.
Harry powered towards a generic cafe, as always reminded that his city reverberated with the past's lustre.
But today hope glimmered, even if that too blossomed thanks to a date seared into a former calendar. 21 October. When his life had instantaneously made sense and its disparate strands for once coiled together to form a most blissful pattern. Those memories colour-washed now, becoming unreal, not really part of him...
'Evening dude.'
Friends were here to celebrate too, although they didn't know it. For them, just a catch-up. This one was Liam - stereotypically at the desired spot on time or even a little before it.
'You look happy.'
'I'm in the mood tonight. It was smooth in work. One of those days, you know?'
Liam did know. And they were off, soon joined by Kerry, Jay, Chris, and Denise. Then soon after that to the curry house, blissfully enveloped in that unique, homely heat-haze of such places after dark on a dank evening. Revelry bathed in flowing wine.
'Brilliant to see you lot!'
Harry's tongue was slippery when soaked in the drink. And his next monologue wildly indulged his party, and they were happy to receive his words as part of the night's overall vibe of general conviviality. It all tied in with the deceptively fuzzy emotions he wrapped himself in on this date.
Further wine, soon evaporated. All conversations rushing, careening to the climax. He was certain that proceedings climaxed with bloated promises and all phones out, but those minutes stayed grainy and vague. There is little doubt though that certain commitments were made. It was simply one of those hug-drenched, haphazard finales.
But quite suddenly the glow dimmed as Harry moved away from the restaurant. As though the brief glory had been swept away, in another - it seemed to him - ruthless confirmation that even as he tried to stay in control with force that it was not in his power and situations would eternally and relentlessly move away from him.
Ok. So no prospects tonight. Just a shadowy trudge back to the station, image-tracked by fragmented recollections of the now-receding meal. Already late. The train station doubtless packed with revellers wanting to beat the onset of the autumn mists arriving with a slap.
© Copyright 2023 John Maher