Short Short: Irish Flavour


Something I wrote on the bus to school today.  Enjoy.

Irish Flavour

by Ari Collins

Bill and Martha and I met her at the trip’s outset, a transplanted Irish girl whose brogue’s colour clashed with the Portuguese spoken around her.  A short encounter easily misplaced amongst the vacation squabbles, passport theft, and rainforest treks that came later on the trip.  But she and I bonded over theatre and American reality television while I fell in love with the freckles that surrounded and outshone the stud just above the righthand corner of her lips.  And years later it’s her I remember most, not the howler monkeys or mad rush to the embassy.  No, it was on the left side.  Her left.

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