splintered by Sarah Hall Murphy (England)

The silences were growing longer. He was eating breakfast. Two slices of bacon, and an egg. He stabbed his fork into the yolk and made it weep. 
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In the living room, his wife watched TV. The presenter’s nose was too small for his face, and he was swamped by the folds of his chin. She wore baggy clothes and no make-up. The midday sun cut soft lines across the table. It was April. It was Sunday. There was a war on. The birds were coming back out, slowly, shaking off treads from a long winter. ​

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He chewed the bacon. It was mostly fat. The coffee was black. He drank too much coffee. It made him jittery. He couldn’t stop. He received a notification on his phone for a meditation app and ignored it. 

Three weeks ago, he’d booked a hotel room in Liverpool. It faced the Albert Docks. As he walked through the Docks, he watched sunlight sparkle on the water. 

The woman’s name was Sophie. Aged twenty-six. They’d met on a dating app. He took her to Pizza Express. Sophie told him about her PhD in Musicology. They’d drank wine. The edges of the pizza were burnt, and the waiter was irritating. 

The towels in their hotel room were blue. Outside, the sound of traffic. He could smell salt on her skin. There was a gap between her teeth he’d found distinctly unattractive. The only real truth is that confessions don’t change anything. 

Later, that night, he began to talk. He worked in finance, he told Sophie, but he hadn’t wanted to. He’d wanted to paint. He attended night classes and took online courses, but the real reason he’d never made it as an artist was his childhood just wasn’t sad enough. It was only in adulthood where things started to fall apart. 

Sophie had listened. Two weeks later, she found his wife on Facebook. Then the rest. 

His wife turned the news off. She was reflected in the screen. Outside, there was a blue bike in the driveway. Neither of them cycled. The birds were singing. Birds only make noise when they’re fucking or fearful. 

He finished his eggs, mopping them up with a slice of bread. He put the scraps in the bin and the plate in the sink. He finished the coffee. He walked over to her and held her hand. She sat with him for a few seconds, before she rose and walked over to the sink. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking.