Until tomorrow (never comes)


The wedding took place in the port. An hour later they were sailing. A ferry to. An enchanted island. He covered his wife with a Hermes blanket. Took a bottle of Belvedere vodka from one of the LV cases and poured himself four fingers. He preferred the cleanness of vodka to other spirits. Raised the glass to his his lips and smelt his wife’s sex on his fingers. He smiled. It made him like a sophisticated animal. He sat down in an armchair, cradling the glass, looking over at his sleeping wife on the bed. And tomorrow. Now they were. But had been friends and lovers for so long. What was the fucking point. She had felt compelled. To do this thing. In the sight of. For what reason? Give me a reason. How much do you love me? Truly. That’s not quantifiable. They argued. He slipped the plain gold band from his finger. Put it in his pocket. Swallowed down the remaining three fingers of vodka and placed the glass gently down on the little table beside him. And just as gently opened the cabin and made his up onto the deck. Three seagulls tracking the stern of the boat. He thought of the Ancient Mariner and the albatross but nothing of the poem. Searched into his pocket for and tossed it into the sea. Slipped his hand inside his jacket and removed a letter from his pocket. An old letter. Purchased from a philatelic society. It was to have been a gift to his wife. A collector of things old and curious. But intrigue had gotten the better part of him. He removed the letter from the envelope. It began; Dear Flora my love, if tomorrow doesn’t come shall we meet somewhere else…


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