Cat sat there for a moment, the absurdity of the situation
taking shape in her already perplexed mind. She picked up the empty fag packet
and popped it into her handbag, finished her drink and got up to leave.
Curiosity got the better of her as she made her way to the bar.

“Excuse me, do you know that woman who was just here, her
name’s Hannah, mid twenties, smokes?” she asked the bartender.

“Aye love. Straight talking lass, regular in here, got money
behind her. Bats for the other side if you know what i mean.” The barman
winked.

Cat couldn’t help but wince at the clichéd remark, but
thanked him and got going. What a relief to spend at least five minutes
thinking about something other than Frankie and Sam. Albeit it was another
woman, but Cat appreciated the oxygen her brain needed.

Her key turned in the door; she rushed to sit down to find
her phone and the empty fag packet. Text templates rushing through her mind.
After another glass of wine and several deletes later, she settled on: ‘Hi,
it’s Cat from the pub. The one that accused u of smiling. Maybe we could meet
up, if you would like to and i can apologise again. Thanks for the drink. C x’

Cat’s pulse was hitting her skin like an orchestra. There
were tiny beads of sweat on her temples as she started telling herself off for
coming across as such an amateur. She took her empty glass to the kitchen
whilst muttering ‘you sound like such a twat’ to herself.

She refilled, and walked into the bathroom. The hot water
gave Cat a shock, an awakening, a ‘now you’re lusting after three women you
weirdo’ hit. She crouched down in the shower as the water ran over her like a mid
September downpour, tears merged. For all her life she had craved love, and every
time she had felt it within grasp, it was taken away. And now there were so
many paths, so many droplets of love, sporadically formed yet not always
accessible, Cat didn’t know where the real love lied.

As she dried her hair, she picked up her phone. 2 messages
received. Cat’s heart raced. Message one: Unknown, message 2: Frankie. She
couldn’t work out whether the one person it wasn’t from brought the fastest
heartbeat.

Message one: ‘Hey, sorry i had to rush off. Sounds good to
me. Name the date and i’ll be there. x’