"I can't make you love me / If you don't / You can't make your heart feel / Something it won't." - Bon Iver, 'I Can't Make You Love Me'
I can't focus. When I eventually get home, after walking for a while back to the nearest housing estate then ordering an Uber, I kick off my shoes at the door. My flatmate, Daisy, is in the lounge, watching one of the terrible reality shows she loves.
"You're back later than usual," she comments. "Hot date or something?"
I scoff. "Not exactly."
Before she can ask any more, I head to the kitchen and make myself a PotNoodle. Once I'm in the safety and solitude of my bedroom, I feel my last shred of resolve wane. I have one forkful of noodles but I've lost my appetite and it just makes me feel sick.
I get into bed and attempt to watch some Netflix on my laptop as a distraction. But of course, the episode seems to be entirely revolving around how fantastic it is to be in love. After the fifth passionate onscreen kiss, I slam my laptop shut with a sigh.
It's pathetic, I know it is, but I can't help but constantly check my phone. Maybe he's changed his mind, maybe he wants to talk things through. But every time I look, I'm taunted by the words NO NEW NOTIFICATIONS.
It's nearing midnight when I can't take it anymore and I snatch my phone off the side, typing out a message and hitting send before I can think it through.
Dear Mr Flint,
I'm writing to inform you that I'll no longer be working at Flint's Books, due to unforeseen circumstances meaning I can't continue there. Thank you for the employment, I have truly enjoyed working for you.
Tomorrow will be my last day, I will officially hand in my resignation then.
Sorry for any inconvenience,
Jamie Harlow.
YOU ARE READING
Flat Tire
Short StoryEvery night, Jamie gets a lift home from his co-worker, Will. (Not so) coincidentally, Jamie has been hopelessly, desperately in love with Will for the last eighteen months. Will, on the other hand, has a girlfriend. And so it goes, Will drives Jami...
