This Is
Title: This Is
Author: Miriam Bosiljevac
Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Rating: Mature
Wordcount: 704
Author’s Note: Story written for Scott M., in honour of his birthday. Section titles taken from songs by the Clash.
Summary: Once upon a time, there was an angry girl, who used to wear torn t-shirts, dyed her hair blue and green, and had 8 pairs of converse shoes.
i. London Calling
The Clash was blaring on the radio. Sue closed her eyes, her fingers tapping to the beat.
She was restless, nervous energy keeping her in front of her computer. She was angry, the rage bubbling up, but ultimately leaving her paralyzed.
Work was stressful, keeping her awake at night. Her boyfriend, Mark, was stressing her out, always questioning her shopping habits, her mood, the books she read. As she skimmed through her daily bookmarks, she wondered why she had ever thought he was perfect for her. Wondered if she’d always feel thirsty.
Getting up, the water tasted sour.
ii. The Guns of Brighton
New day, new bullshit at work.
New memos, new policies, new reprimands.
The flickering lights above her cubicle needed to be fixed, but of course there was no urgent policy that governed that.
iii. Complete Control
Inflammatory, outrageous, hastily written words.
She liked him, she even respected him, but really, how could he be that much of an idiot and actually believe those things! Fuming, she typed up a reply to his blog entry. Then deleted it. Then cursed herself for being such a coward.
She closed the browser, and re-opened it to look for porn, knowing it would drown out the mocking voice in her head. The voice crafting a perfect reply, which would make him see the light, see he was wrong, recognize that she’s brilliant that she’s worthy that she should be queen of the world.
Sue supposes he’s free to post whatever he wants on his blog, and continued reading fluffy smut.
iv. Rudie can’t fail
She hates it when people don’t go all the way to the back of the bus. It’s crowded at the front, and even though she wants to swear at the people around her, she only manages a polite ‘excuse me’ as she pushes past them.
Walking up to the kiosk, she looks through the display of candy and magazines, craving something sweet, something salty, something filling.
One of these days, she’s going to be brave enough to have a beer for breakfast.
v. This is Radio Clash
“Woman dies, surrounded by medical staff who ignored her“
“Woman beaten to death by strict father“
“Woman sexually assaulted in subway, surrounded by passengers“
“Woman shot by ex-husband“
“Woman kept in makeshift cell for 3 years“
Why won’t the world listen? she asks Mark. He doesn’t pat her on the head, but he doesn’t really care either.
vi. Lost in the Supermarket
Sue’s at a party with Mark, the kind of adult party she should be comfortable going to by now. There’s wine and cheese and pâté, and talk about mortgage rates and retirement plans and in vitro fertilization. Mark only looks at her when they’re asked how many kids they’re planning on having.
Other than the domestic, maternal, no one asks her anything else, no one assumes she’s smart, no one assumes she’s capable of anything. Not that it comes as a surprise. She’s not pretty, her mousy hair framing a plain face, and instead everyone is drawn to Mark. It’s why she’s invited out.
She’s pretty sure Mark doesn’t use a condom that night, but doesn’t say anything. She takes about a dozen vitamin C pills the next day.
vii. Train in vain
The first time he told her he loved her, Sue was caught off guard. They’d had unremarkable sex, with Mark on top, and her legs wrapped around him, trying to pull him in deeper, faster. She’d moaned, gasped, made all the right sounds, wanting to just get over it, because the position hurt her shoulder and she was hungry.
A week later, he listened to her ranting about her idiotic boss, then calmly asked why she thought she could do better. After all, she wasn’t an MBA. Like her boss. Like him.
viii. Should I stay or should I go
Once upon a time, there was an angry girl, who used to wear torn t-shirts, dyed her hair blue and green, and had 8 pairs of converse shoes. As the Clash blared out of her car stereo, Sue smiled, not really caring if Mark understood her middle finger sticking out the window was solely for him.
Author: Miriam Bosiljevac
Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Rating: Mature
Wordcount: 704
Author’s Note: Story written for Scott M., in honour of his birthday. Section titles taken from songs by the Clash.
Summary: Once upon a time, there was an angry girl, who used to wear torn t-shirts, dyed her hair blue and green, and had 8 pairs of converse shoes.
i. London Calling
The Clash was blaring on the radio. Sue closed her eyes, her fingers tapping to the beat.
She was restless, nervous energy keeping her in front of her computer. She was angry, the rage bubbling up, but ultimately leaving her paralyzed.
Work was stressful, keeping her awake at night. Her boyfriend, Mark, was stressing her out, always questioning her shopping habits, her mood, the books she read. As she skimmed through her daily bookmarks, she wondered why she had ever thought he was perfect for her. Wondered if she’d always feel thirsty.
Getting up, the water tasted sour.
ii. The Guns of Brighton
New day, new bullshit at work.
New memos, new policies, new reprimands.
The flickering lights above her cubicle needed to be fixed, but of course there was no urgent policy that governed that.
iii. Complete Control
Inflammatory, outrageous, hastily written words.
She liked him, she even respected him, but really, how could he be that much of an idiot and actually believe those things! Fuming, she typed up a reply to his blog entry. Then deleted it. Then cursed herself for being such a coward.
She closed the browser, and re-opened it to look for porn, knowing it would drown out the mocking voice in her head. The voice crafting a perfect reply, which would make him see the light, see he was wrong, recognize that she’s brilliant that she’s worthy that she should be queen of the world.
Sue supposes he’s free to post whatever he wants on his blog, and continued reading fluffy smut.
iv. Rudie can’t fail
She hates it when people don’t go all the way to the back of the bus. It’s crowded at the front, and even though she wants to swear at the people around her, she only manages a polite ‘excuse me’ as she pushes past them.
Walking up to the kiosk, she looks through the display of candy and magazines, craving something sweet, something salty, something filling.
One of these days, she’s going to be brave enough to have a beer for breakfast.
v. This is Radio Clash
“Woman dies, surrounded by medical staff who ignored her“
“Woman beaten to death by strict father“
“Woman sexually assaulted in subway, surrounded by passengers“
“Woman shot by ex-husband“
“Woman kept in makeshift cell for 3 years“
Why won’t the world listen? she asks Mark. He doesn’t pat her on the head, but he doesn’t really care either.
vi. Lost in the Supermarket
Sue’s at a party with Mark, the kind of adult party she should be comfortable going to by now. There’s wine and cheese and pâté, and talk about mortgage rates and retirement plans and in vitro fertilization. Mark only looks at her when they’re asked how many kids they’re planning on having.
Other than the domestic, maternal, no one asks her anything else, no one assumes she’s smart, no one assumes she’s capable of anything. Not that it comes as a surprise. She’s not pretty, her mousy hair framing a plain face, and instead everyone is drawn to Mark. It’s why she’s invited out.
She’s pretty sure Mark doesn’t use a condom that night, but doesn’t say anything. She takes about a dozen vitamin C pills the next day.
vii. Train in vain
The first time he told her he loved her, Sue was caught off guard. They’d had unremarkable sex, with Mark on top, and her legs wrapped around him, trying to pull him in deeper, faster. She’d moaned, gasped, made all the right sounds, wanting to just get over it, because the position hurt her shoulder and she was hungry.
A week later, he listened to her ranting about her idiotic boss, then calmly asked why she thought she could do better. After all, she wasn’t an MBA. Like her boss. Like him.
viii. Should I stay or should I go
Once upon a time, there was an angry girl, who used to wear torn t-shirts, dyed her hair blue and green, and had 8 pairs of converse shoes. As the Clash blared out of her car stereo, Sue smiled, not really caring if Mark understood her middle finger sticking out the window was solely for him.