future
Then there was that one evening when we went down to the stream, the little stream behind that row of garages, and do you remember we saw blood in the stream? I remember we were afraid at first, thinking it might be human blood but then we looked up the stream and there was a dead fox, caught in the branches wasn’t there? I remember your face when you looked at the fox, the way you clamped your teeth together and pulled back your lips, your eyes were fixed so hard on the cut where the blood was coming out. I could tell that you wanted to touch it – I did as well, and then we did, remember? The flesh was still warm; you said that it felt silky and I thought that wasn’t quite the word, but I couldn’t think of a better one and so I agreed. To be honest, I still can’t think of a better word for the way it felt, but for some reason it doesn’t sound quite right – do you know what I mean? After we touched it I said we should wash our hands and I rinsed my fingers in the stream but you said that you liked the blood and you wanted to let it dry. Then, I remember, we stopped in the newsagents on the way home to buy sweets, you picked up that comic and got blood all over it and the man in the shop said that you had to buy it but we didn’t have enough money. Do you remember? You’re not even listening are you? Then there was the time when we battered that brown trout with sticks, remember that? Because it was dying anyway and we thought it was kinder to kill it quickly; I remember how the sound of the sticks slapping against the body made me sick in my mouth.
Ah, it’s so… we had so many good times together – I never know why you don’t want to talk about them. Oh, hang on, this is her now.
Hello? Where are you? Oh you’re there, I can see you. I’m over here, see me waving? Yep, red jumper. Ok, see you in second. Yep, we’re both here, he’s just sitting down so you won’t be able to see him, but yeah, he’s here with me.
