Adriana's Corner

Chapter Two

My apartment looks strange tonight.

Sure it could be the overtime and lack of brain power but something's not right. It looks too organised.

Cushions are placed neatly on my very square sofa and there's not even a magazine on my coffee table. No un-rinsed plate or mug in the kitchen sink, or jacket thrown over a chair just...tidiness.

Unlived in.

Like it's ready for sale.

Usually, this doesn't bother me but, right now, as I eat my microwave meal in the silence, it does. I push my plate away and look at the house, screwing up my nose.

Without having the faintest idea what I'm doing, I get up and decide to do something about it. I go through the house and start opening things, kitchen draws, cupboard doors, I throw my jacket onto the table and mess up the cushions. Leave my shoes in the middle of the floor and scarf on the couch. All of this in an effort to feel more homely. I stop and look around at the result of my few minutes of busyness, hands on hips.

Grief! I can't even mess up a house properly!

The doors are all opened the same distance, same with the drawers. The clothes I've attempted to throw around look neatly placed, my shoes are sitting tidily next to each other and even the cushions have an air of symmetry about them. The only thing that looks homey is the mug I put in the sink and it's bugging me now because it's out of place!

The apartment now looks like one of those home and garden houses where things are placed very strategically by someone who gets paid way too much.

I let out a pathetic laugh to myself, rubbing my eyes hard.

Stuff it all- I'm having a wine! The brief but pointless encounter with my boss today had left me feeling wilted and hanging out for a drink all day.

I shake the bottle of red only to discover not even half a glass is left. I put it down with a sigh, realising my only option is to go out.

Maybe I should go and see Miles perform.

A shiver runs up my spine at the prospect of doing something other than my usual...and on a week-day too! This is putting an ever so large exclamation mark at the end of Adriana's assumption that I'm single and lonely and is all the evidence I need that I have to get out...after I tidy up.

***

I stand outside the bar and take a long, deep breath. Goodness knows how many people Miles has invited but part of me doesn't care. I still feel embarrassed about my pathetic display of loneliness back home and I just really need that drink.

A big one.

That being said, Miles does have me curious about this 'gig', though I have a bad feeling I'm going to be the old lady of the group. The bar has never really been my scene and, weirdly enough, I never thought it would be Miles' either but then again, what do I know about the guy.

I at least managed to lose the suit. I've pulled out and dusted off (literally) my deep green three-quarter sleeved pencil dress. I'm surprised it still fits really. Italian blooded women usually start getting even wider in the hips by my age, but it hasn't quite happened. Granted, I have enough curves as it is but the dress still fits like a treat and I haven't worn it in three years. I know this because it was to a wedding. Not mine, clearly, but one that easily could have been. Going to the wedding of an ex-fiancé is something I swear to never do again, not that I have any other ex-fiancé's to worry about.

After tucking my fringe behind my ears and brushing down the front of my dress, I walk into the bar. Immediately, my ears are greeted by the sound of the crowd booing and talking loudly over a young girl and her band who are failing miserably at singing a 'Cranberries' song.