One A Day: I Still Love You

(The picture was of a Anime style girl, grafitied onto an underpass wall).

I still love you


“Which one are you reading now?” I tug on her Lolita skirt. Her pink feet twitch.

“Deathnote.” Angela flicks another page of her book that you read backwards. I’ve tried to read Manga before, but it wasn’t happening for me. I stick with magazines and blogs. My concentration is shite. Never used to be so bad but with a PC, laptop and phone all with internet access its gone to the dogs. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able get it back. Angela has a computer for the whole family to share at her house, and a phone with a torch instead of the internet.

“Is it any good?”

“What would you care?” She says and flicks another page. She gets through these Manga books so bloody quick. She has to buy a new one nearly every week. All her money goes into them, and her Lolita clothes and accessories.

“Because I like to be interested in what you do.” I settle down next to her. I want a cuddle but I’ll be lucky. Close contact has been sparse since I acted like a twat when she went on holiday to Tokyo. I thought she was sleeping around over there, because she was standing next to this guy in a picture in a bar with a drink in her hand. So I went to a party and got laid.

“I love you, babe.” She puts her book down. She has a knack for not needing a marker and can find her place the first time.

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“I’ll prove it.”

“How?” She’s reaching to pick up the book. I put my hand on hers. I’d almost forgotten how soft and small they are. I kiss them. They smell of strawberries.

“Mum is going to knacker me if she goes into my room and finds I’m not there.” I want to hold her hand. Its dark and we can hear the river a few feet away, gently sloshing. “Where are we going anyway?” I settle us down. “What the hell are we doing here? We’re not fucking tramps.”

“Just hold on.” The underpass smells faintly of piss, but that’s not what’s important. Slowly, slowly, the sun slips across the water and lights up the brick, and my graffiti is revealed. She doesn’t say anything. I want to cry out for god. Then a smile, and a hand over mine, closing tight on my fingers.