by Mel George

You think it's because of that girl you kissed at Dave's party. It isn't. It's because of that book I leant you; the one I told you changed my life; the one I claimed would help you truly understand me. You didn't get around to reading it for four months, and you finally handed it back to me slightly crumpled. I asked you what you thought, and you said, 'It was all right.' I know it shouldn't be, but it's because of that.


Mel George reads and writes (but doesn't do arithmetic) in Oxford. She edits The Pygmy Giant.