Nanowrimo excerpt (fiction)

“I have never fallen in love. I used to think this was because I was frankly ugly. Then I used to think that it was because my mind took me to places that other peoples minds did not venture. Nowadays I realise this is not the case…. and I think I may have lost my chance to really fall in love. I think if you don’t fall in love once or twice at an early enough age, your heart atrophies and becomes solid, unyielding. Like astronauts in high orbit with osteoporosis and weakening biceps because gravity no longer exerts any effect upon them and all they can do is look at the Earth spinning below and out of reach. My heart deprived of the gravity of love became solid, hardened and impervious to its draw.

I think these words to myself as I stand over the gas hob of my kitchen. It must be said that I have a nice kitchen, one with a large modern fridge which is capable of keeping things very cold for a very long time. A can of Budweiser sits on the worktop and I stir white sauce and parma ham into cooked pasta. A meal for one, a movie, I’ll sit still in the twilight of my apartment, possibly until the sun rises but more than likely I will fall asleep before then, curled on the black couch in only my boxer shorts whilst the muted TV plays on, casting its sullen glow over the room. My apartment is a sparse place, this is not out of lack of desire to furnish it or because I recently moved in but because I don’t yet recognise enough of what constitutes ‘me-ness’ to begin to decorate it. Am I for instance the sort of man that would have an IKEA wall print of a waterfall or a tropical beach? I simply don’t know. Again there is no gravity drawing me to these things. My apartment is sparse for this reason. Anything else would be wearing a mask, putting on a front, acting a role that I cannot play for long without falling apart.”