I wrote a short story.
Every day I change it a bit.
Maybe sometimes a lot.
The only rule is I can't change it back.
I'll keep doing it for as long as I can.
A year maybe?
I'm interested to see where it ends up.
They both think it’s behind them as they run back towards goal. But it’s Conzula on the ball and they’re looking at each other so they don’t see him jink round them as they turn and see an empty pitch and know that they have fucked up massively and Scott raises his hand and waves it as if to say we need some help down here even though they are the help that was needed and they both make a diving run hoping to block somehow the shot that will come in inevitably come in and they know it’s useless but they do it anyway it’s just a gesture and the ball loops up and down and they clash heads in the goalmouth as it bounces drolly into the net.
She says it means what it means, I'm tired He says yes but you wanted to go shopping in Bochum and have drinks with the guys so I just wondered what you meant. He is keeping calm, scratching the label off a bottle of beer with his nail. She looks at him and says she’s changed her mind and goes up to their room. Later he knocks gently, in case she is sleeping. He opens the door quietly. There's no light on in there. He turns off the hall light and enters the room. Hey, she says sleepily. He looks at the outline of his girlfriend in the bed. The windows are dark. He kneels down by her and says I thought you wanted to go shopping in Bochum.
She says she doesn’t want to talk about it. He stiffens. He says he loves her and she says it back. He kisses her and says he’s going out. Blood is humming in his head as he hits the bar. He’s talking but he doesn’t feel like he’s saying anything, more like hearing himself say them. Some Boca Juniors fans are shouting something across the room but he doesn’t look at them. He keeps breathing, talking, drinking. It's gone, he thinks, it's all gone for ever. Inside he is screaming. He doesn't know what to do, he looks round at the dark room. Scott’s heart screams quietly: Conzula was behind us.