Member-only story
To Argue for Love.
Shame is for those who are too afraid, or too meek, to make a stand. — Kevin Farran
Derek sauntered over to the window where I was writing in my tattered notebook.
“You’re scribbling again?” he asked.
I grinned up at him. “Yeah, finding peace. It’s either that, or cycling until I am so dehydrated I can’t think.”
“That might be healthier.”
“Says the man idly hanging around until he can go out and fish in the nightclub pond yet again.”
Derek’s eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. “It isn’t fishing… it’s product research.”
I let my poetry pocketbook, one of several around the apartment, fall closed. I stared at my roommate, flabbergasted. “Idiocy comes easy to you doesn’t it?”
“Alex, you say that only because you’re so pussy whipped. You can’t see the babes through the trees. You think writing will get you laid? That’s swinging the bat before the pitcher throws the ball — if you swing earlier you’ll get a home run — not.”
“That means nothing to me, Derek. I’m British. Baseball is all about spitting.”
“And what, soccer — footie isn’t? All I am saying is pouring over sentences, metaphors, and adjectives… whatever, will not get you in the right position, if you know what I mean.”