Edmund
Huddled over the designs and blue plans, Rosenberg and I sit on a high table overlooking the courtyard of the university on the spanish block. Finishing an argument with Rosenberg over the colour of the arches, I look up and see Edmund walking down the alley with a red school bag slipping off his shoulder.
Bugger, I think, not him again.
But I remember that no one can see through the misted glass. Heaving a sigh of relief, I return to the papers and devote several more minutes to convincing my dear Rosenberg that she does not want the wigs yellow. The room that we are in is painted that nauseating office off-white that screams dull. I shudder as I notice the spiky green potted plants that are shunned into the corners of the room. Poor things.
The white light begins to hurt my eyes. 'Someone give me candlelight,' I murmur. However, God sees fit to give me more Edmund instead. Though indeed, he is easy on the eyes.
He is now milling about with his friends beyond the glass to my left. Rosenberg begins to notice my lack of concentration. She asks me if I need another coffee. 'Thanks but I've got my tea,' I reply before I realise that Edmund is staring straight at me. I panic, frantically trying to figure out whether or not he could actually see me. Forcing myself to review the papers, I refuse to look anywhere else.
I do manage to complete some more of the layouts before I am suddenly compelled to glance up at the scene directly in front of me. There he is, gesturing with his hands at the small patio outside the place I was in. I poke Rosenberg and say, 'Edmund is calling you.'
Sharp taps on the glass. Edmund mouths angrily, 'Not her, you.' I am a little confused, wondering what hellish reason would induce him to speak to me. Shrugging, I drop my pencils on the table and walk out that little office-cafe.
Edmund waits impatiently outside. As soon as I go through the doors, he says very abruptly, 'Why do you keep looking at me?'
The fuckwit
'Rosenberg and I were just talking about how stupid you are,' I blurt out. 'What do you care anyway, you apathetic prat?'
He turns red and sits down on one of the plastic benches, motioning for me to join him. Anxious to get the encounter over with, I quickly take a seat while remembering to keep an appropriate distance away from him. Edmund then tells me, 'I need to talk to you actually-'
'Well, spit it out then. I've got a project to finish,' I interrupt him, getting progressively more annoyed. 'What do you want me to do for Rosenberg? It's high time that you made your move.'
He is miffed, and fidgets with his shirt hem. 'I heard you're going to ball and since you're going stag, I thought you might want a date,' Edmund proclaims smugly.
The obnoxious little fuckwit.
Before I could tell him what he could do with his stupid condescending proposal, I feel a light pat on my knee. I glance down and find the most adorable little girl I have ever set my eyes on. She is wearing a red floral sundress, and her hair is in a bouncy braid. Grinning up at me, she holds her arms out. I am flooded with motherly instincts; and I pick her up.
'You darling little kid, where's mummy?' I coo as she bursts into peals of baby laughter. Oh, if only I could rent babies as pets by the hour! I continue to make funny sounds which sends the girl giggling and gurgling. I ask her in a sickeningly sweet voice, 'Hey, where's mummy? What's your name?'
'Emma.'
I shoot a glare at Edmund who sits less than a foot away, forgotten in the light of the little girl's appearance. 'How would you know?' I retort.
'For one thing, she's my sister,' he says.
Good Lord.
Immediately, I move the kid away from me. She smiles and reaches for me. Have I been deceived! I am at a loss, and I cannot figure out the best thing for me to do. Thankfully, a lady with 60's hair comes rushing towards us and takes Emma away from me.
As I watch the little girl and her mother disappear, I turn to Edmund. Shooting him the best glare I could muster, I say: 'You think you're really fit, don't you?'
Then I walk back into the office-cafe, leaving the toad outside- extremely embarrassed, I hope.
Bugger, I think, not him again.
But I remember that no one can see through the misted glass. Heaving a sigh of relief, I return to the papers and devote several more minutes to convincing my dear Rosenberg that she does not want the wigs yellow. The room that we are in is painted that nauseating office off-white that screams dull. I shudder as I notice the spiky green potted plants that are shunned into the corners of the room. Poor things.
The white light begins to hurt my eyes. 'Someone give me candlelight,' I murmur. However, God sees fit to give me more Edmund instead. Though indeed, he is easy on the eyes.
He is now milling about with his friends beyond the glass to my left. Rosenberg begins to notice my lack of concentration. She asks me if I need another coffee. 'Thanks but I've got my tea,' I reply before I realise that Edmund is staring straight at me. I panic, frantically trying to figure out whether or not he could actually see me. Forcing myself to review the papers, I refuse to look anywhere else.
I do manage to complete some more of the layouts before I am suddenly compelled to glance up at the scene directly in front of me. There he is, gesturing with his hands at the small patio outside the place I was in. I poke Rosenberg and say, 'Edmund is calling you.'
Sharp taps on the glass. Edmund mouths angrily, 'Not her, you.' I am a little confused, wondering what hellish reason would induce him to speak to me. Shrugging, I drop my pencils on the table and walk out that little office-cafe.
Edmund waits impatiently outside. As soon as I go through the doors, he says very abruptly, 'Why do you keep looking at me?'
The fuckwit
'Rosenberg and I were just talking about how stupid you are,' I blurt out. 'What do you care anyway, you apathetic prat?'
He turns red and sits down on one of the plastic benches, motioning for me to join him. Anxious to get the encounter over with, I quickly take a seat while remembering to keep an appropriate distance away from him. Edmund then tells me, 'I need to talk to you actually-'
'Well, spit it out then. I've got a project to finish,' I interrupt him, getting progressively more annoyed. 'What do you want me to do for Rosenberg? It's high time that you made your move.'
He is miffed, and fidgets with his shirt hem. 'I heard you're going to ball and since you're going stag, I thought you might want a date,' Edmund proclaims smugly.
The obnoxious little fuckwit.
Before I could tell him what he could do with his stupid condescending proposal, I feel a light pat on my knee. I glance down and find the most adorable little girl I have ever set my eyes on. She is wearing a red floral sundress, and her hair is in a bouncy braid. Grinning up at me, she holds her arms out. I am flooded with motherly instincts; and I pick her up.
'You darling little kid, where's mummy?' I coo as she bursts into peals of baby laughter. Oh, if only I could rent babies as pets by the hour! I continue to make funny sounds which sends the girl giggling and gurgling. I ask her in a sickeningly sweet voice, 'Hey, where's mummy? What's your name?'
'Emma.'
I shoot a glare at Edmund who sits less than a foot away, forgotten in the light of the little girl's appearance. 'How would you know?' I retort.
'For one thing, she's my sister,' he says.
Good Lord.
Immediately, I move the kid away from me. She smiles and reaches for me. Have I been deceived! I am at a loss, and I cannot figure out the best thing for me to do. Thankfully, a lady with 60's hair comes rushing towards us and takes Emma away from me.
As I watch the little girl and her mother disappear, I turn to Edmund. Shooting him the best glare I could muster, I say: 'You think you're really fit, don't you?'
Then I walk back into the office-cafe, leaving the toad outside- extremely embarrassed, I hope.