Abner

PINTEREST BOARD

Very normal Kiwi bloke who troubles you for some unknown reason. Polite enough. Minds his own business and doesn't ask questions. Seems to live alone. Likes to walk along the beach and watch the sea for hours on end. 

Every Friday he goes to the pub to catch the game. He watches every second but he never reacts. If you talk to him, you'll start noticing the utter misery punctuating everything he says. You start to see it in his skin, in his hands, his fingernails, like jaundice. He tells you he's cursed, effusively, yet never elaborates. 

You watch his hands as he talks and it's like they're your hands. Soon his glass is empty so you fill it, you keep filling it, you drink his words. The bar closes and soon the two of you are in your living room, in your kitchen, in your bedroom, trying to crawl inside his words like a window until you feel hollow yourself. You put your clothes back on. 

When you come back from the bathroom, he's looking at the framed photo on your bedside. 

"Who's this?"

It's a picture of where you once lived. 

"Oh."

He leaves soon after.