The
scene: a dark corridor. A high door in a steel frame, red padded leather. A
darker corner beside the door. Stealthy scritching.
“Oh hello. You can’t be…?”
Scritch.
Unobtrusive
bounce.
“Really, it can’t be. But you look so
familiar: eight legs, round brown body. I mean, how many of you can there be?
Besides, I’m sure I recognize that left foreleg.”
Left
first front foreleg twitches.
“It’s the music, right? I mean, last time
you were in the corner of the loo. Now you’re by the door. Or… Are you here to
say goodbye?”
…
“No, I’m just being silly. I mean, it’s been
years, and besides, that one’s very purpose was to terrify me by threatening to
run over my toes in the middle of the night.”
Waggle.
“What do you mean, you were only joking?
How on earth was I supposed to know it was a joke?”
Chachachachacháá
“It is you. That is so weird. But really, could
you stop the Czech laughing? It doesn't really tell me it's funny. It just sounds creepy.”
…
“You’re right. I’m sorry, that was mean.
But it does sound sinister. Really. Maybe it’s the accent on the "a"? Look, I’m sorry
about all the hoovering lately. And the mop of death to cobwebs. It’s just, I
need my deposit back, you know?”
Scornful
bob.
“Oh. Yeah. The music. That is kind of
annoying, I know. But the internet’s been cancelled, and I’m left with what’s
on this knackered laptop.”
Resentful
twitch.
“I agree. I mean, I don’t even understand
why it has to be the soundtrack to Glee. I guess it’s fun? And Mercedes’ voice
is pretty good.”
…
“But you’re right, it’s pretty irritating
the 6th time around. And the Imogen Heap was making my voice weird.”
Baleful
leg waggle.
“So… will you miss me?”
Twitch.
“Um. I’ll miss you? I mean, I’ll miss this
flat. It’s been lovely.”
…
“I mean, I’ll really, really miss this
lovely flat. Spiders, weird scritching and all.”
…
“I guess I’m supposed to be missing the
amazing cultural opportunities, the buzz of life in a glamorous Central
European city?”
Bob.
Bob. Waggle. Bob. Bob.
“It
is beautiful. Absolutely drop dead beautiful. And new location is… well… it means
comparisons are pretty painful.”
Scornful
twitch.
“And I never really did take advantage of
the many cultural opportunities. I mean, I hardly learned any Czech. I never
learned to like beer or dumplings, or the finer nuances of Czech wine and Slivovice. I don’t own any interesting antiques, and I
haven’t developed a deep knowledge of Czech landscape artists of the 19th
century, or Nationalist poetry, or similar. Basically I’m a failure when it
comes to living abroad.”
Backleg
sproings a filament.
“But I’ll miss it. I’ll miss it so much.”
Sproing.
Sproing.
“Odd really, since it was supposed to be
such a short stay. Five months… Seven years… I guess I’ve done a lot of
growing? That’s good, right? That I took advantage of the growing and learning
stuff?”
Sproing.
“You’re right, I could have grown anywhere.
But I guess if you have to grow, it’s nice to do it somewhere pretty. There’s
something very special about being able to walk somewhere beautiful and brush
up against a memory. Good or bad.”
Sproing.
“But really, this move is good generally.
Better job, closer to family, old friends, and so on. Nice to be back somewhere
where I understand things easily, where things aren’t quite so hard.”
Waggle.
“Just that nothing is ever wholly good or
wholly bad. Sometimes you have to give things up. Even really nice things. And
it hurts even when it’s the right thing to do.”
…
“God, I’m going to miss it.”
