Priya Was Right

Rewrote the ending again. Less neat. More me. It ends on the question. Ends on me, which is not my favourite thing to say on a Monday.

Did the new bit for Priya in the bookshop back room. She went quiet. She does that.

She said the ending works. She said the middle is not true yet.

Yet. Just that word. Sat on the table like a knife I did not see.

Walked home the long way. Camden Passage. Did not buy anything. I never do. I just walk slow and look at things I cannot afford and pretend I am choosing.

Home. The notebook on the table. I am not opening it. The middle is the bit I keep skipping. The middle is me. If I write the me bit there is no joke left to stand on. Just a lad from Manchester in a room full of people who went to uni.

Priya was right. I hate that she was right.