In The Kitchen

someone’s in the kitchen. Hope they are making tea, I’m thirsty! I can
hear the cups tinkling on the saucers. The whoosh of the kettle heating.
Teaspoon clattering around the sugar bowl.
Must be Mum. Father is watching a political broadcast in the back room.
I’m only half listening to it as it’s not a party I follow. Not that I follow any
party really. Hate politics. All as bad as each other! Never done us any
good have they?!
Sis is upstairs with a friend. I can hear them chattering to each other but
can’t make out which boy it’s about this time. She has a different
heartthrob every day it seems.
I wonder if bro got his job he went after. I haven’t seen him for a couple
of days now. He often stays around his mates so it’s nothing new for him
to be gone. I miss him though. He has great music on when home.
Obviously I can’t play it when he’s not there. Shame really.
Well, I’ve had my half hour playing make believe. Its pouring with rain.
I’m soaking now. I’ve stayed in their garden too long tonight. I need to
get to a safe sleeping place before the drunks come out.
Someones in in the kitchen.
Wish it was me.

3 thoughts on “In The Kitchen

  1. Oh, man. Abbie. You get me by the heartstrings every time. I read a response you gave to a comment of mine, and where you said you lived for a year, homeless. How terrifying it must have been. When I read this, I thought about you and how this is actually something from your heart to ours. This make believe that everything is alright, where the buzz of family doing the mundane things that ensures you know things are right and then the realization that it is only make believe. I don’t want you to feel bad that I read things and get upset. I am a bit of a worrywort; tend to care too much for my own good, but seriously, being able to touch another human being with your words means your writing is powerful. I feel that there is a genuine, feeling person on the other end. Great writing, Abbie. Maggie

    1. Thank you so much. Yes I was homeless for a year and yes, this one is really. It happened. I would sit under the kitchen window, unseen, listening to peoples everyday lives, pretending it was my life and that I’d just gone into the garden for awhile. I only ever stayed in places up to half an hour and then went on to where I normally slept, just outside the town.

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