When All Is Said

by Anne Griffin

The company of the trusted, what? Being understood without having to explain and not having to pretend all is fine. Being allowed to be a feckin’ mess.

‘Yes. It’s nice. Busy. Emily, is very nice person.’ ‘Ah, Emily. Yes, a lady.’ ‘Yes. Emily is lady,’ she states, like she’s confused at how I could possibly mix up her gender. I smile more to myself than to her and think what an even richer man I’d be if I could bottle and sell that ballsiness of hers.