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Confidence

July 9, 2010 in C

By Amy Bishop

It was amazing the confidence that a new dress could grant.

Whilst heels give height, makeup a clearer complexion and jewellery could imply wealth, a dress was almost singularly amazing in its ability to put forth whatever image you wanted – even to show your true self if you wished, Shannon mused.

You could be strong, delicate, professional, sexy or a combination of all of them if you wished. Shannon gave a small twirl in front of the mirror before fingering the way the dress fell on his hips.

He turned back to the slightly bewildered shop assistant and smiled at her.

“I’ll take it.” he said, turning back to his reflection in the mirror.

Yes, he definitely felt more confident in this then he did in trousers.

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Exhibit

July 6, 2010 in E

By Amy Bishop

It was another day and another date with the somewhat dubious Simon who was still trying to keep me from my thesis under the guise of getting me “out and about” to “revitalise and re-invigorate” – I was quite sure this was all my mothers doing.

Tonight’s date was at an “avant-garde” art show. Obviously he was running out of ideas. But there was wine and there was company and he was going to a lot of effort. My thesis could wait a few hours while I schmoozed, drunk and joked about the art.

Of course, nothing really went as planned, or at least not as I had planned – because really, who plans for that kind of thing?

“Simon… what is that?” I said, stopping in the middle of the gallery as the crowd had apparently fortuitously parted allowing me to see two ‘performers’.

“One of the exhibits”

“No, Simon, that isn’t an exhibit. That is two people having sex in a room full of people.”

“If you already knew then why did you ask?”

“Last time I checked that was porn.”

“No, it’s an exhibit. It’s being displayed in an exhibition. They are exhibitionists. It’s a commentary on words and language.”

“No Simon. Its porn, porn based on puns and not very good ones either. Is that what the rest of the display is as well? More puns? What the hell ever happened to art?”

“Uh… Basically.”

“I’m going home.” and making a note to not let Simon take me to any other avant-garde art shows… Or just not let him take me to anything, no matter how sorry I felt for him. Puns, do not a date make.

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Red

June 22, 2010 in R

By Amy Bishop

Red was easily her favourite colour.

The colour of sweet strawberries and the skin of a crisp apple. Red was the colour of the pasta sauce they’d shared that first night together, and it was the colour of her favoured wine.

It was the colour of her favourite sheet set and the colour she dyed her hair that infamous summer that her friends liked to label as the one where “everything changed”. Red was also the colour that said stop, even when it urged you to go, go, go. It was the colour of a fast car, speeding along an endless road on a clear day.

Red was the colour of the lipstick on the smirking woman in front of her. Red the colour of her blood as it was pumped through her body, heart racing at her partners suggestion. Red the colour of the sky above them, more interesting than the usual charcoal grey.

Red was brash and lustful. It was fun and slightly sinful. It was the colour of all the best things in her life.

Red, she decided, was definitely their colour.

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Cheat

June 12, 2010 in C

By Amy Bishop

Benches are places for thinking and parks are for the search of peace and tranquility but peace and tranquility can be elusive. Yet the haze of distress and uncertainty lifted as he reached for her hand. Escaping his reach she shook her head, walking away. She had a husband and kids to get back to.

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Ambivalent

June 8, 2010 in A

By Amy Bishop


I was having an ambivalent day – I couldn’t work out what was happening with it and I certainly couldn’t work out if I was enjoying it or not, frankly I don’t think I could even tell you what had happened that morning I didn’t care about it at all – or at least I was until he walked in.

I won’t say it was love at first sight (I’d known him for a long time and really, it wasn’t love at all) and I won’t tell you I suddenly realised he was amazing and I needed him in my life forever (because that wasn’t true either).

What I can tell you is that he had obviously had a bad day. More so, he’d had a bad day and he’d come to see me and when we made eye contact it was like a little weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he smiled ever so slightly.

Suddenly my day wasn’t ambivalent – it had decided what it wanted to do, what it wanted to be and that was a good day.

The fact I had made someone’s day a little bit better made that day amazing. Oh, and that tiny flutter in my stomach when I realised I was the one he went to after a bad day? That was just a bonus.

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