One Day

by David Nicholls

He had one of those faces where you were aware of the bones beneath the skin, as if even his bare skull would be attractive.

He wanted to live life in such a way that if a photograph were taken at random, it would be a cool photograph. Things should look right. Fun; there should be a lot of fun and no more sadness than absolutely necessary.

Their friendship was like a wilted bunch of flowers that she insisted on topping up with water. Why not let it die instead?

Emma was about to open the heavy oak door when he took her hand. ‘Em?’ ‘Dex?’ He wanted to take hold of her hand and walk back into the maze. He would turn his phone off, and they would just stay in there until the party was over, get lost and talk about all that had happened.