Accusation

Morning after the rushing rollercoaster night.

I wake up surprisingly early and find myself coherent.

As yet unaware of last night's misdemeanours and confusion.

I go downstairs and into the kitchen. Having cereal and get a cup of tea.

My mother sits tetchy in the dining-room. Wants to know how I have spent the night. And with whom.

Halfway up the stairs with my cup of tea I hear the accusation. Stinging bitterly.

Turns me back around for an argument. And over by the kitchen sink I smash a plate. Turn upside down a fruitbowl.

My voice becomes huge. Booms and shrieks. My face becomes skeletal. My jaw disjointed. Haggard and despairing. And all the time shouting, and rounding on her in the corner. Incredible curses burning from my mouth. My face distorted.

Vivid red by the formica kitchentop.