For the love of my life

A new Catalonian independence referendum was announced. Or was it Caledonian?

It was on Jean-Emmanuel’s birthday. He was twisting about with his shiny Bauhaus trolley of cakes, sweetmeats and fruity juices shouting, ‘Here it is, for the love of...’ He was smiling and his moustache tilted upwards like a garage gate stuck for good.

Earnest was in his usual corner protected from visitors and overseeing a panorama of the Oriental Press Club. Was he smiling?

Sister was sorting out the coffee machine. The aroma of freshly ground beans was transcendent. She was smiling.

So many hours, such wondrous activity. For the love of life. For the love of my life.

Music played, food consumed. The coffee was ready. Things grew much quieter.

Jean-Emmanuel now sat in his chairman’s chair. He picked up the phone. Everybody stopped what they were doing and waited.

‘No, never! For the Love of my life!’ He was screaming. He put the phone down, buried his face in both hands. Resignation.

A clock flies. It is 7:45. Already. My daughter is demanding her first meal. ‘Repas, pa pa!’.

Another day in paradise... surely!

(C) Artwork by Nikos Antoniou, 2021