Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • To Summarise: Likes: empty cinemas, red shoes, musical exploration and beards (on men).

    She’d published it during a buoyant mood, hope brimming.

    A soft copper covered forearm brushed hers. Feet-filled odd socks depressed indents into her oatmeal armchair. A lucid orange gig memorabilia hoodie lay draped across its back.

    He offered her a biscuit, pushing one up from the packet bottom which had been emptying all evening, sending crumbs cascading.

    She declined, glancing down at the belly-button topped flesh arc visible under his t-shirt hem and swallowed. Returning his kiss, she injected smile into her eyes.

    The television blinked scenes of sheerness.

    Their first date happened at an early morning film screening, following a lengthy e-word exchange. He’d brought her a pick-and-mix and mix-CD, and worn post-box coloured Converse trainers. As the lights dimmed, he whispered words about his band and vinyl fixation. Their fingers interlaced before those of the main characters, and upon him, through the darkness, she silently projected her ideals and desires.

    Shimmering skies led to crunchy russet paths, and unchecked momentum galloped forward their connection. By the time she white-tacked fairy-lights to the insides of her window panes, their possessions were married.

    Credits rolled on the invisible film and then the screen was green, populated by running men. It was six and six thirty and seven and eight o'clock when he got home from work these days, and along with a job change had come stark white months on the gig calendar.

    Panic wriggled in her belly. She stretched, feigning a yawn, and stroked his smooth cheek goodnight.

    His job also brought grooming requirements and compulsory tie policy.

    She had sat on their bath edge, watching his wiry black facial hair intermingle with her fantasy, both tumbling down into the cold ceramic sink, swirling with running water. Bare skin and awakening gradually unfurled.

    A prism of light swelled and shrunk on the bedroom wall, her side, as car headlights seeped through curtain gaps. The burble of sports commentary floated through floorboards. She wondered where the line between imagined happiness and reality blurred.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.