Blot On The Horizon

This is a Sunday Photo Fictionsubmission. Photo. Copyright Alistair Forbes

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Back in the summer of 1996, I’d spend long afternoons lying on my back with my college sweetheart, imagining patterns in the clouds. At first, it was romantic but, after a while, it got dull. Dinner for two in town might’ve been a tad extravagant on a student loan but I wanted to see the Sneaker Pimps at the Hop&Grape, or go and watch the Full Monty at the cinema.

By September, I was becoming tired of getting nothing but the wrong sort of grass stains out of my relationship but I stuck with him. Well, he looked like a less simian Gaz-From-Supergrass; it’d have been rude not to, wouldn’t it? It was only when he became particularly pre-occupied with a cumulonimbus formation that I started to realise something was up.

“It looks like a…badger,” I said.

“Does it?” he asked in a Galway burr which I’d once found thrilling but which was beginning to grate.

I hesitated, “A…vole?”

He seemed disappointed with my answer, “But, really, what does it look like. To you?” He fixed me a particularly intense stare, like he was looking into my soul, like he was some kind of shrink.

It was then that I saw it.

He was using the clouds as a sort of Rorshach test to vet my suitability as a future wife. The nerve! And this from an engineering student, at that.

“What does it look like?” I repeated. He nodded, eagerly. “It looks like you won’t be getting past third base with me.”

With that, I caught the number 43 bus into town, confident from my cloudgazing that it wouldn’t rain for at least another few hours.

I didn’t give him a second thought until I ran into him the other day. He was looking handsome, expensively dressed and was utterly, utterly charming. I was wondering if I’d been wrong about until he told me he’d married a weathergirl.

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3 Comments

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3 responses to “Blot On The Horizon

  1. I bet her name was Stormy too!! HA HA!! Great story! 🙂

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