The Wren, the Wren

by Anne Enright

The empty air which exists between people might be crossed by emotion, but it might not. You need something else, or you need something first.

I say ‘fell in love’ because that is the technical term for what happened. There was no gap, no need for translation. I felt understood, merged. And this feeling was euphoric.

A revelation is the way things make sense when we are wired for some kind of knowledge, but not yet switched on.

BAM, it just kept happening and rising, the knowledge, the beauty, the hopefulness, my feet not touching the ground, my cheek not feeling the air, the love the swoop and swoon the blood mashing in my ears the any moment now the any second now he will call, the beauty of the day, the beauty of the sky, the jolt of missed time and had I missed it? Did he text? Is my battery dead? Did I pick up somebody else’s phone, now?

What’s that? It’s a tatt, I said. Right. Do you want to see? She shut the boot. Time enough, she said. I’ll be looking at it for the rest of my life.

What the fuck, nice guy? Who gave you all that nice? I can’t wait for him to leave,

This guy’s sense of humour is so bone dry, his jokes are identical to not funny at all.