I’ve always felt that I can’t. Shouldn’t. Oughtn’t. It takes great skill to write something not shite in 100 words, and skill I don’t have. The last 100 word thing I wrote with any deft touch was a shopping list. And even that was rubbish as I forgot porridge just to keep it to a 100 word limit, but this week’s theme has been on my mind since I first heard about it and I thought I’d go for it. As a good friend of mine says, ‘Fuck it.’ Parting isn’t just a hair style. It can be like wrenching your soul out through your arse.
Here’s my 100 words.
No reasons. No words. No goodbye.
No. Parting is NOT such sweet sorrow. Hate to break the illusion.
Want another? While I’m in the mood?
A kiss on a cold forehead. ‘Goodbye nanny.’
When I leave, T’s arms grip my legs.
‘PLEASE Don’t go daddy.’
His cries stay in my head as I go. I watch his tear stains on my jeans evaporate as I leave town on the train.
Mind you, when you leave, after a passionate, loving kiss goodbye, I get to watch an amazing body wiggling into the distance.
Swings and roundabouts eh?
Thanks for reading. Now go over to Julia’s Place and read the good ones. I kiss you on both cheeks.