Don't Read "Meaghan"'s Journal Just Before Sleeping
Author: zed
I was living with My Online Friend Formerly Known As Meaghan and her mother in my (former) room at university. Meaghan’s mother was being annoying, so I left them, to live with Meaghan’s father instead (who had left his wife). He lived in a little shack with a garden, in Canterbury.
It was a Tuesday towards the end of the summer term. I went to my estate agent’s and found they had a student house near Sainsbury’s up for grabs the next academic year. The rent was only £57 a week, so I applied for a room in it.
Later, I remembered I was supposed to be living with Soppygit, Ibid and Jo the following year. I considered living in the house I’d just acquired, but I saw no benefits. I couldn’t be bothered to go through the procedure of finding other people to live there, so the next day, I returned to the estate agent’s (with Soppygit and Ibid). The woman there advised me to look at the new house at either 12.30 or 2 that day. I told her that I didn’t really want it at all. She cancelled my application with surprising ease.
Soppygit, Ibid and I went to a post office. There were quite a lot of people sitting there, and music was playing on the stereo. I suddenly wondered if they’d play “Not An Addict”. We were about to leave, when a new song started. I didn’t think it was “Not An Addict”, but it turned out to be. Everyone else was thrilled to hear it too, although they knew different versions of the song.
On the way home, we stopped at a supermarket, but only Soppygit wanted to buy anything there.
I decided to move back in with Meaghan’s mother. I went to talk to her father about it. He was playing a simplistic golf-like game with a five-year-old boy who had dark brown hair in the garden, which was full of holes. The boy was beating him.
He was quite happy to let me move, so I returned to the corridor. There, I found that Meaghan had been thrown out of my room. However, she was quite content: the teenage boy (who looked much like an older version of the little boy) who lived with his father in room 4 had suffered a similar fate and they shared an interest in serial killers, so they were sitting on the floor, talking animatedly.
I stood with them for a while, then Meaghan’s mother emerged from my room. “Get ready, we’re going shopping,” she told Meaghan and myself. She told me I could leave my belongings in my room, so I carried my bag and boots into it, and put them on the floor. I hoped Meaghan’s mother wouldn’t accuse me of being messy.
I wondered whether to wear the boots on or not: if I was going to being trying on trousers, I’d better not. But I knew we were only shopping for coats, so I started to put on the boots.
