Tag Archives: love letter

Friday Fictioneers: Co-habitation

flowers-and-packing-boxes-dale-r

Every Wednesday, regular as clockwise, she received a bouquet – always from a different vendor, always paid for in cash. The accompanying notes were invariably clipped and enigmatic: ‘Soon,’ ‘Barely contained,’ and ‘Bursting with love.’

The radiant glow of a secret admirer quickly ascended through alarm and then angst as the messages morphed into possessive missives: ‘Claim you,’ ‘No one else but me,’ and ‘Destiny will not be denied.’

Nothing tied her to the shabby apartment. She made the decision to move out of harm’s way.

A few days later her possessions were stacked neatly in labelled boxes.

She froze.

Next to the boxes – a bouquet and a note: ‘I took the liberty…’

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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Epic Fail

I’d used the company before and had no qualms leaving two likely lads to install some double-glazing while I headed off to work. By midday the phone was flashing with my housemate’s name.
‘Hi Martin, just popped home for lunch and one of the fitters wants a word.’
‘OK, stick him on.’
‘Hello…yes…Mr. Cororan…this is Jason. We appear to have cocked up the measurements. One of your windows is 200 ml too short, but we’d already taken out and destroyed the old window before we realised. We’ve put a piece of plywood there instead. Hopes that’s OK.’
‘Um…no, obviously not.’
‘Oh…well, you could ring my boss and ask him to order another window?’
‘OK…or…you could ring him!’
‘OK.’
‘OK.’
‘…’
‘…Bye then.’
Later that evening I returned home to survey the damage.
Shortly afterwards my housemate arrived and discovered the following note (number obscured to prevent trolling):
Whilst my housemate is a very attractive woman by all accounts she isn’t that way inclined. So, even if the fitter hadn’t written his note on a piece of toilet paper and had remembered to include his name, he’d still have had no chance.
A more pressing question presented itself – How did he know that we weren’t in a relationship?
This morning I rang the company and gave them what-for middle-class style.
‘I bid you good day. One of your fitters has been cracking onto my wife. The other one can’t use a tape measure. I demand a discount.’
Hilarity ensued.
Later I borrowed the above note and phoned the given mobile number.
‘Hi, is this Jason?’
‘Speaking.’
‘Hi, this is Martin. You installed some tiny windows and plywood for me yesterday. I got your note. Just to let you know – I’m not a teacher, I’m a project manager.’
What! Oh, that wasn’t meant for you.’
‘But you left it in my room?’
‘Oh God, there’s been a terrible misunderstanding.’
‘Come now Jason, don’t be coy…’

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