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The End of the World
by Flo Ward
EXCERPT
We’re sitting outside Scotti’s, Gus holding onto his empty foam-rimmed pint glass, and me still nursing an inch of house white. The light is golden, full bodied, early May, glinting on the glass exterior of the building opposite. The sun makes strands of Gus’s otherwise dark hair amber. I’m swirling the wine around the bottom of my glass without drinking it, because I don’t want the moment to end. I’ve always been like this, pleading one more drink, one more song, five more minutes in bed in the morning when the sheets are heavy and the temperature is exactly right. Gus is always moving forward, always awake and purposeful, while I try to keep things still long enough to be certain I’ve made the most of them. One more kiss before we brush our teeth, one more moment before lights out, please.
Not just yet, I say when he unhooks his coat from the back of the chair. Gus humours me in these situations, says something about how the next moment we have will be just as nice as this one, and I envy his trust in the future. Gus has rainy day savings, performs household chores with enough regularity that he is always pre-empting dirt and untidiness, but lets the dust settle after an argument. I find it hard to believe in what isn’t in front of me, and become anxious after any imperfect interaction. Neither of us predicts what is going to happen, of course. …
… Read the complete story in our anthology Broken Ground.
… Read our Q & A with author Flo Ward.
Flo Ward
Flo Ward is a writer from London. She is currently working on her first novel, exploring friendship and obsession in the digital world.
