I stepped off the bus and the giant green tube of toothpaste followed me. “It’s not because you have yellow teeth,” it said. “Ok then what?” “It’s because you’re a good listener.” I felt played. Who says that if they’re not after something? My teeth felt furry. Like I needed to brush them. I had a lot on my mind. Earlier that day, during a means test for a loan extension, my bank manager asked if I had hobbies. “Badminton, I love badminton.” I lied. I didn’t want him to say, ‘Play less badminton,’ ‘Stop playing badminton,’ I didn’t get the loan extension because I couldn’t cut corners. The toothpaste caught me on a bad day. I didn’t have the bandwidth. So, I moved to the other side of the road. To start afresh. Minty fresh. — DERVILLE QUIQLEY
Derville Quigley is an Irish writer currently based in Amsterdam. Her short stories and poems have been published in The Ogham Stone, MASKS Literary Magazine, Roi Faineant, Beyond Words, CommuterLit and Litro. She is a co-founder and organizer of Strange Birds writers collective, and mother of two. Find out more on her site.