Feb. 8th, 2007 02:27 pm
hells_half_acre: (Ireland in March)
[personal profile] hells_half_acre
Due to my boring life, I've decided to type up a piece I wrote in a notebook in March 2003. It's a little trip down memory lane for me. I've cleaned it up a bit, but not too much. Enjoy:

They sat on a bench at the front of the bus station in Clonmel. Their failed attempt to go to Kilkenny had led them here. She felt bad about it, but he really didn't care it seemed. They sat and waited. They had just missed the 11:45 bus back to Limerick, so they were to wait until 13:45.

He read a book he had bought in town. She didn't feel much like reading, disappointed she had not found a suitable book of poetry. She always craved poetry in Ireland.

"I love this," he said, "sitting and reading in the sun." She felt better. He did seem happy, despite the half-wasted day.

He looked good in his black hat and light blue dress shirt. She wanted to tell him so, but didn't. He wasn't good at taking compliments. He didn't take them and rarely gave them.

He sat there reading and ignored her writing beside him. This wasn't something normal for them. Though they were used to spending day and night together, they never went on trips. He never went on trips at all. Most of the time they never left her room and spent all day playing games on her computer. She was happy he had decided to visit Ireland with her.

"What the...?" she muttered, as her favorite pen ran out of ink.

"Already?" he said, glancing up from his book. "You filled that up, what? last week?"

"Yeah, when it exploded" she replied in thought.

"Was it that one?" he asked.

"The see-through one, but I thought..." she trailed off as she glanced down at the empty cartridge. She put the pen away, not bothering to finish her sentence - he had already turned back to his book.

She lifted her head and watched the traffic go by. An old man to her left caught her eye.

"You're a writer, uh?" he said in a think Irish accent. She nodded, though it was not true. She set the notebook on the bench between them, rose, and entered the shop.

Glancing through the selection of drinks she saw one called Clearly Tipperary. A smile came onto her face as she remembered the old Clearly Canadian drinks back home. She bought some and she knew that when she showed it to him he would also be happy, because he always liked the same stuff she did. She took it to the counter and smiled at the salesman.

"Did you find the buses to Kilkenny?" he asked, knowing her from earlier that day.

"Yes, but none were running. We've decided to turn back towards Limerick, but we just missed that bus as well, so we'll wait for the next one."

"It just isn't your day, is it?" he replied, smiling. She laughed,

"No, having a bit of bad luck it seems."

She returned to the bench outside and showed her friend what she had bought. She had been right. He smiled and left to purchase one himself. While he was gone she watched the traffic again and saw a bus to Waterford arrive, it's passengers strolling up the hill towards town. He returned and picked back up his book. Smiling to her, he took a sip from his own drink.

She closed her eyes and let herself feel the warm sun on her face and arms, while the cold breeze messed her hair. It was their last day in Ireland. She probably would never be able to come back. This was her last day to enjoy a country she loved. Like most she loved, it was incapable of loving her back, but she was nothing if not forgiving. After all, it was just a bit of bad luck.


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