Extract: little scratch by Rebecca Watson

eye contact already made him mouth open,

)

hello, haven’t seen much of you, it’s been a while, what have you read

recently?

mind gone,

not a clear head but a blank head, making me question my capacity to

think at all (even though I know that questioning my capacity to think is thinking in itself but a different sort and not a sort I’m interested in

much), I know I was reading a book on the train this morning, before I

saw that strange man with the teddy-bear dog and yet here I am, searching desperately for any hint of a book I might’ve encountered what I say 90

have

I

read

pensively as if the choice is just too eeeeeeeeeexxxxxxxtraaaaaavagaaaaannnnt

and I merely want to select the right book from my shelf that’ll interest

him (the shelf inside my head I mean), so that I’m not just delivering any old thing,

which will only make things worse naturally because my head is still blank and time for rumination is running out, only implying I am

thinking over what I say, so that now whatever I say should seem more intelligent – but I still see clearly the table in front of me (my legs

underneath, asking to be scratched), spoon still clean, phone flashing WhatsApps

greenunbroken chats hiding the carefully chosen

background of my phone (although now I can’t remember what it ever was) and I see him noticing too, looking, without wanting to, at my phone, flickering,

him to the phone, and then to me, to the phone,

me too, to the phone, to him, him to me, phone, me, me, him, and I now can’t turn the phone over (letting the back face up), because he’ll know that I know and that we both know,

so I let it flicker, whilst I continue to think still not in my head, seeing clearly what is in front,

and overhead:

him, standing, jutting out, signalling to those walking lightbulb blinking that the nook behind the coffee station is in use, 91

signalling to those passing by, look in!, look at the reddening girl sitting on the sofa, mouth shut

still me, looking out, locking eyes with the him who is now cocking his

head – unimpressed? am I applying that to his face, or is he unimpressed?

legs warm

but now I see oh boy I seeeeeeeeeeeeeee white

blue lettering?

an image! not my spoon! not my phone! (although I can see that too, an

emoji of a pig, which distracts me for a second but oh no I am not letting this go, yes an image, a book

yes)

Yes

blue lettering 92

That’s it, you’re doing good, it’s what I read last week! that’ll do, that’ll do, he doesn’t know the order of when I’ve read things hm ha har dhahrd Hard Hard – something Hard-castle? no look let’s grab the title you’ve got that

yes yes it’s a-coming

me, well, I guess

it’s funny how you can so easily forget

what you’ve read recently, but I’ve read The Second Body?

That’s something, that’s something!

Not what I’d like to pick out for him, have you heard of it? quite interesting

too millennial it won’t please him, but it’s a book, he’ll know I’m

looking at butchers and meat,

reading, engaging,

and our existence on this planet

he’s not interested, I can see him

and how we interact, but bringing

in literature th—

glossing over and I realise, as he says oh, nice, must check it out! that it was only ever a polite question,

I could’ve said anything (well, not anything, if I had said Cloud Atlas perhaps he might’ve

wrinkled the bridge of his nose, 93

but really I could’ve gone

he’s gone

with anything),

slide phone, WhatsApp my him, two ticks, still not read me, Why is it, whenever

anyone asks what I’ve read, I go completely blank? no

deleting

he’s got enough on

he doesn’t need me

complaining

must stop checking

last active ten minutes ago

find my way to the toilet cubicle

whilst staring at

it’s long past that

should be

eleven minutes

I am not going to scratch my skin I instruct myself, studying the space between the floor and the cubicle door, 94