Date night maths in this city is unhinged. We sat down already behind. London charges you for arriving. Then it charges you for leaving too.
Tag: Uber
The performance drops in the back seat. I replay the look I should have left on. Call it a good night. Mean it halfway, barely.
Uber. Bar. A name I will not save. I sat at work hoping nobody asked. Being skint makes romance feel like a secret little purchase.
I know the night bus exists. My feet know it too. Sometimes I pay the stupid fare so I do not think until I get home.