The Beach

They broke up at the beach. A weekend away. A weekend of grunts and monosyllables. Irritated past apathy at the expected utterings of the other. Politeness was no longer possible. They realised they were not interested in anything they had to say. Didn't want to see themselves so unflatteringly reflected in the other's eyes.

That unedurable, annoying elephant trumphet sound he would make when he stretched. Her habitual “and things like that” when speaking.

Now the flirting was done all that was left were habits of companionship.

They realised they hated eachother.

She thought about what had attracted her in the beginning. She realised it was the 'otherness' of him. He was so very different to the people she had grown up with. She was never quite sure what he was going to do. She knew now. It probably involved football.

He had been attracted to her smile and the way she laughed at his jokes (and her tits). She had stopped smiling a long time ago. She never had liked his friends. Always bitched about the television being on.