by Martin Reed
So many messages. I don’t know why hers caught my attention. Maybe it was the moment. Colleen off for an early night. Just me and the computer and an inbox packed with strangers’ voices. Win Millions in a Single Spin. Learn how MR BIG satisfied YOUR girlfriend. Canadian Pharmacy: V14gra, Ci4l!s –
But hers. I couldn’t explain. I was sure it flickered as it appeared, looking unsure whether or not to arrive, its date blank as though really it hadn’t. The sender: Lola. Email: firstname.lastname@example.org. Subject: Lola loves loving.
Straining to hear if Colleen was still awake, I clicked to open the message. It was blank but as it opened I caught a waft of cinnamon. Nothing more, and before it faded I clicked reply. Oh Lola, I wrote, I’m so glad, I love loving too.
I don’t write to her every day. That would be too much. But most days I do. Whenever I catch her scent. Not that she writes back. She doesn’t need to. It’s enough to know what she loves.
Martin Reed is a northerner now living and writing in London; his work can be found in numerous obscure corners of the internet and in a few print anthologies; he’s learning to blog badly at worded.co.uk.