Longship Noir

Slices of cold toast next to pairs of patterned socks, stranded in the corner of the ruffled futon. Few creased notes on the wall prompting how many weeks remained before departure. Windows opened behind untied draperies conveying waft from elsewhere. The loose end of a daybook with picturesque illustrations and few lines of children’s storybook. Empty cartons of instant popcorn, outmoded jumper with particular men’s odor, colourful inks from leaking pens, Dutch dictionary’s pages found in shreds, bleached trousers hung above fridge; everything was as misplaced as the summer downpour that is occurring outside. Cellphone thrown few centimeters away from falling down from the hammock, suddenly vibrates.

“Hello, there.”

And she just knows rainbow would betide even after cloudburst.


Originally published at frequencylocked.tumblr.com.

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