Beer Lover

At the bottom of the beer mug she had stayed……. Alone and cold and damp! She didn’t look up, at the popcorn eating, laughing voices. She liked it there. At the bottom of the mug. It was her’s …..The cold, the mug, the quite bubbles that left the sides to float to the top.
Her sky was lather. The ground was bubble-adorned glass. This was her space.

She hugged herself in the mornings pretending to like the cold. She frowned at the voice that told her it was not her job.
She liked the rain .she would watch it ……..long ……long enough …..to be able to see the army raindrops instead of the torrent .
She would look up at the gray blue sky …….and try to take it all in with one long breath.

She existed. She didn’t want to die but she didn’t have any plans for life either.

She had stayed down at the bottom for too long……….she couldn’t respond when the sky opened and he broke through her precious lather. She watched spell-bound as he sank to the bottom. Slow like a bubble in reverse.

He didn’t speak, she didn’t ask. They sat there alone …….together.
He smiled……this she understood. She smiled back.
He leaned back on his side……. she moved for the first time in months. She left her spot to be with him. There, at the bottom of the mug it was warm and dry and safe. There, from the bottom of the mug they watched the faces shoveling popcorn in to their mouths and laughed ………..together.


Faye
3rd may 2004.