I stand there doing maths like it is romance. London will charge you for lunch and still call it a deal. I laugh. I pay.
Tag: rent
Daytime me budgets and makes plans. Night me wants a mouth on mine and no chat about next week. Lighting does half the actual lying.
Good coat, dead eyes, phone already out. I do it too. The city rewards looking sorted. It never even asks if you even slept tonight.
I leave product everywhere. I know that. Still, if you use my mascara I will know. A shared flat is not a shared bloody face.
We made a colour coded masterpiece. Then someone pulled a late and the bathroom went feral. Systems die the first time a night out wins.
Numbers I can do. People I romanticise. That is why the spreadsheet looks adult and my Friday looks like a dare I already accepted tonight.
Nice people go quiet. The group chat dries right up. Then the money leaves and we are mates again. Poverty makes all our manners seasonal.
I tell myself the promotion ends the tight feeling for good. It will help. It will not make me suddenly wise on a Friday night.
New lip, decent coat, nails done before the shift. Nobody has to know the account. Looking costly is the cheapest kind of rich available really.
Not sex this time. An actual argument. I put music on and hated myself for listening. Thin walls make you an unpaid bloody little witness.