An Almost Invisible Crack

"Who are you?" she asked. "Ed, Edwin" I said, squeezing my plastic cup, listening to the popping sound as it buckled and unbuckled, instantly regretting that I had traded my beautiful suit jacket for a jumper. "Are you okay?" she touched my arm. Breaking the silence, popping the cup, I stared at her silently until she walked away. I didn't mean to.

I don't know how long I stood there after that. I must have been popping that cup but all I could hear was the words of that stupid bitch nagging endlessly. "...How dare you speak to me like that" she said.

I should have walked away, you can't argue with a ten year old. "I bet you're going to go and to cry daddy now ?" I thought that was pretty polite considering what I wanted to say. With girls you have to be so careful, I always forget they're just pretending to be tough.  "Yes I will take great pleasure in telling my boss." she squawked. I could feel my face twisting into a smirk, she hated that. In the old days I could have, at least, focused on her cleavage while she talked down to me. "No one is paying me to be bullied."  She spat that out, and then she walked away. 'No one is paying me to be bullied'. She didn't have a clue. And that was that. Twenty five years I worked for that firm.

Then I realised that the bright popping sound had changed and an invisible crack had opened up in the belly of the cup. I looked down to find red wine bleeding through the gaps between my fingers. I pressed a serviette to the wound but it was too late.

Holding my jacket I ran into the night. Basking in the sound of the car door closing, finally undoing my trousers I remembered the half bottle of whiskey waiting for me at home. Why have a party if you've got a cream carpet. Why should I apologise, cheap plastic cups. I was only drinking that awful stuff to be polite.