One Day in September by Matthew Turner

Author:Matthew Turner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: contemporary romance, new adult
Publisher: Matthew Turner

23.32—Wilbur Day

To be out and about partaking in unruly ways on a Monday night demonstrates true freedom. Dante and Ethan should be with me, living an existence built on pure spontaneity and excitement, for we’re only given one life, and to be in bed by midnight is a crying shame. A damn crying shame and an insult to whatever miracle or deity or happens-chance created this crazy existence we’re part of.

Ethan is impossible and will have placed that humdrum haircut on his clean and crisp pillow the moment he entered the boring house he dares call home—well, as soon as he organised his morning’s life of course. He couldn’t possibly drift off knowing his old white shirt isn’t ironed or cheap tedious shoes aren’t polished.

Dante is my kindred partner in crime, though. Why isn’t he out playing? He should be feeding habits and desire with me at this very bar, throwing caution to the wind and saying the hell to his pitiful excuse of a job—the local paper, why oh why would he settle for such everyday nonsense. He should be living with me and writing the novel every young man needs to read, whilst I invent reason and splatter paint on canvas, or sculpt clay around a face, or merely sit in front of a wall and imagine the possibilities such a space could hold—oh, speaking of which, I should find Harriet and finally convince her to sit naked and allow me to devour her in paint. Such a mysterious underneath. A work of art, I’m sure.

I’m alone but I shouldn’t be, yet it’s their loss because this is how Monday nights should be spent. Ethan says this bar is dire, and quite right, too. It’s awful, but so awfully perfect I wouldn’t wish to be any place else. It’s dusty walls tell a tale of another time, a period when maybe my mother or father possibly ventured through these doors, although highly unlikely as those two wouldn’t be caught dead in such a wonderful mess.

I may stick to the floor each time I move, but what’s wrong with that? Is a grand chunk of beef worthless because it’s left hanging on a hook for weeks on end, or what about lamb as it soaks in a gorgeous marinade, or the mighty whiskey as it ages in a barrel once used for wine. Not everything needs cleaning, Ethan. Some aspects of life are perfect as they age, and although this dire excuse of a bar may be far from perfect, it’s far better than your bed before dawn.

The smell on the other hand could do with improvement. The smoking ban is several years old so why the linger of cancer remains I do not know. The hint of urine too, although it may be stale beer. Either way, the scent is far from lovely, but on a quiet night like this sweat doesn’t singe the nostrils. Silver linings in everything, you see. Ah yes, the silver lining follows us everywhere.

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