The Morning After the Night Before
Blue was the colour of the morning and blue was the colour of her spirits. The mood had started the night before, at the party. She had set out from her home in high spirits. She had a party to go to, people to meet and fun to be had. All had gone well at first: good food, good music, good conversation. And then, HE had arrived. Tall, dark, handsome. Well, tallish, darkish, and handsomish, at any rate. His opening line had been promising: The food’s good, isn’t it? She had agreed, quickly swallowing the cocktail sausage so as to smile winningly. Unfortunately, the sausage wasn’t so accommodating and she’d spent the next five minutes coughing her heart up in the most uncharming way. Once recovered, she had been surprised to find that HE was still in the vicinity, looking attractively concerned. His concern then became understandable. In her eagerness to wipe the choking tears from her eyes, she had grabbed the nearest absorbent material. His tie, as it turned out. Of course he was concerned: concerned that he would never breath again as the knot tightened its noose-like grip. She had managed to express a quite dignified apology and had been quite proud of her poise as she’d swept passed him, on her way out. However, her elbows had let her down and she knew, as he’d stepped sideways to let her pass, that his ribs would never be the same again. He was quite kind about it later, once he’d caught his breath. After that, the party went from strength to strength. She’d only spilled one glass of wine, trampled on one foot, knocked over one table, broken one irreplaceable ornament (the expensive kind of course), and, finally, when all the other guests were cowering in the furthest reaches of the room, she’d outdone herself: the fishbowl was, after all, placed very precariously on the very edge of the very rickety table and it was only to be expected that someone (and she had to be that someone) would back into it with the predictable outcome. Yes, the fish had flapped, fluttered, gasped and spluttered, much to the delight of the family cat. After that, it was all downhill. And now it was morning, a blue morning. Blue, the colour of the dawning, and blue, the colour of her spirits. She would never have guessed that blue was the colour of the Morning After.
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