Lapels, by Rhys Leyshon Evans
Winston never used to walk that much, but lately he found himself drawn to ambling around the city every Saturday and Sunday. It was the end of September. The two bedroom apartment Winston shared with an Australian lost in London was an organism that seemed to have regressed in size over the previous six months and forced Winston to locate some form of abstract solace on the city streets. Winston had not become a flaneur. He did not look for comfort in the orthodox and non-orthodox beauty of architecture, or tree lined streets, or magisterial squares. Nor did he turn to walking for fitness. No. Winston simply found it imperative to keep moving. Sitting at home could not offer such respite. Sitting at home could only provide a laptop pallor and a cloying headache.
Sunday unfolded all around Winston. Buses running on haphazard schedules. Families looking for something, anything to distract children. Winston wore a royal blue tweed jacket. The oncoming autumnal chill ensured that this would most likely be the last day braved without a substantial overcoat. Unlike the majority of those who endured university education, Winston somehow managed to gain weight whilst pursuing a degree in sociology and was unable to fit into the jacket for upwards of two years. Yet after a summer of nauseating heat and timid salads, Cosmo successfully shed his academic pounds and found himself able to don the blazer once again.
Winston strolled through Bloomsbury. Georgian facades smiled grandly. A long strand of silver blonde hair sat entwined on the lapel of the jacket. Winston did not notice the hair until waiting at traffic lights where he took a moment to inspect and admire his trusted garment.
The silver blonde hair belonged to his ex-girlfriend, Georgina. The couple had split-up over a year ago. At the time, the reasons for the parting seemed clear, amicable almost. Yet the enveloping humidity of summer decided to muddle and twist and fragment what at first appeared so relatively straight-forward.
Georgina wore Winston’s royal blue tweed blazer the night their relationship properly began.
