On my knees

He was there in the charity shop, singing “Everlasting Love” (Open up your eyes/Would never realize/Standing by my side/Everlasting love). His voice was coarse (to say the least), he stank, was slightly bent and had greasy blondish-grey hair. It was my lunch break. As I entered the shop the uneasy tension was palpable. I hate scenes, so I turned around and walked out, my head down. He came after me for some reason. He bumped into me (literally) in front of the news agent.

“Sorry” – I said, because I am always sorry.

“What are you sorry about? Have you been sorry all your life?” – he replied smiling with yellow/brown teeth.

“Yes, more or less.” – I answered, still regularly wonder why.

“So you spent your life being sorry, on your knees.” – he was clearly enjoying himself by now.

I straightened out, looked into his eyes and said:

“No” with all the conviction I could muster.

He was taken aback, but would not give up.

“Are you Irish?” – he asked.

“No” – I said and walked away.

Tis high time I re-evaluated my life and shit.

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