Confused

'Let's go on holiday...How does Morocco sound?' 

  'I'd love to. Yeah, it'll be great...Let's go in September?' 

'I was thinking in the new year....maybe February?'

- Silence -
- Slow turn of head, mastication stopped. Stare -

'What, you don't plan that far?...Or you're going somewhere?' 

- Confusion, hope, bewilderment, frustration and wonder -

  'I ain't going nowhere' 

- shrugs -

  'It's my birthday in February, you know. 26th.'


*yeah, i know, you can't make this shit up. That's when we talk. A lot of the time we don't. I have tortured internal monologues where I say my piece is a sensible structured way, clearly knowing and stating what i want and how i'd like things to go. Then I just look at him, looking out the window wishing i could still read minds. He catches me looking and I smile*