Another first line courtesy of the creative writing group… Enjoy!
The beautiful red dress hung inside the wardrobe, as pristine and vibrant as when I had purchased it as a Christmas present all those years before. I recalled my girlfriend’s radiant anticipation as she had opened the carefully-wrapped package, her look of shining delight when she beheld what it contained:
“The colour of Arsenal, Shels, and Socialism – it works for everything!” I had blurted out, a bashful look, aptly scarlet with embarrassment, plastered all over my face.
She’d laughed. “And Livorno!”
“And St. Pauli!”
I’d shaken my head, “Nah, they wear brown and white – ya know, ‘Hamburg ist braun-weiss’?”
She’d given me a light punch on the arm.
“I know that, you dick! But you’re always sayin’ how they’re a rebel club, and tellin’ me all that shit about the ‘jolie rouge’, an’ going on about how they’re all REDS really.”
I’d held my hands up in supplication, amused not only by her passion but also by the mere fact that she had apparently been listening to me all those times I had been droning on about the Left in football.
“Fair point, fair point, ya got me this time… Anyway, do ya like it? That’s the important thing. Is it ok?”
She’d kissed me on the cheek and then, after a moment’s consideration, embraced me fully and enthusiastically on the lips.
“I LOVE it, thanks so much sweetie…”
Obviously didn’t love it that much – it was the only thing left in the closet. All the rest of her stuff had been meticulously cleared out, save for this one item; the first present I had ever given her. Presumably she was sending me a message of some sort but, as with most unspoken communication, I was too dumb to decipher its meaning.
I lingered on the dress, unable or unwilling to tear my eyes away. It reminded me of such happier, contented times, memories as vivid and colourful as its own fabric. I just couldn’t look away. I felt that if I just stared at it long enough, I could bring it all back…
I could bring us back.
Solidarity, brothers & sisters…