The Daily Post publishes a one-word daily prompt for everyone to write about. The word for today is Bumble. Some scenes may not be suitable for very young readers. Mention of any real person or event is not intentional and is purely by coincidence.
I found myself lost in Belfast and meeting Alison. I began sweating bullets when she grabbed my arm and dragged me to the local pub, threw me on a seat, and sat in front of me.
“You never called.”
“–you never called, you never…”
Alison began a long list of things she did after we met two months ago through a dating app. Honestly, I thought it could work. We met up in a good place, had a drink or two, and then woke up in her apartment. I have no memories of what had happened during the night. When I went out to drink some water, she told me we’re getting married. I was like ‘what’ and told her ‘no’. Then she began crying, talking about how everything is prepared and how all of our friends and relatives got their invitation already. I said my goodbye and told myself not to use the app again and meet up with Alison. Yet, here we are.
Ah, the humming of bees. It seems people have gathered, wanting to see what was going on.
“… and all this time, I thought it’s because I’m not young anymore. You had a wife, goddammit. Was it because of her?”
Wait, what? Who had a wife?
“What are you talking about?”
Alison began crying. “You cheating bastard. I’m right. It’s that woman.”
She began throwing some tacos my way.
“What are you talking about? We’re not even married. We’ve only met two months ago.”
Alison dropped the mug that she’s about to throw.
“Two months ago? Do you even know how ridiculous you sound?”
“Two months ago, we had a date. Then, I woke up in your apartment and you told me we’re getting married. What’s more ridiculous than that?”
Alison’s eyes grew wide. She seems to have sensed something. It was then that she told me–
“–follow me somewhere. There’s too many people here.”
We stood up, said our apologies to the owner, and went outside…
…to a hospital bed.
An old woman that looks like Alison held my hand near her right cheek. It felt hard to breathe. Three people walked from behind her and looked at me. The humming of hospital equipment filled the air. I can’t feel my legs and hands look old. I realized what was going on.
The only thing I can do was to look at the warmest set of eyes I’ve seen.
“What were you going to tell me?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter now.”