Gemma Burgess

“That’s the spark I’ve been looking for. The spark is the feeling that you were born to be this happy. And that’s how I feel right now.”

“Fake it till you feel it”

“Walked without a destination. Explored without a purpose.”

“There´s nothing I have to do. And nowhere I have to be. With no destination, no map, and no agenda. I´m free to just wander.”

“Lick hand. Sprinkle salt. Do the shot. Suck the lemon.”

“The spark is the feeling that you´d rather be talking to him than any other person in the world.”

“The French have the perfect word for it: ‘ flâneur’.It means to strol around aimlessly but enjoyably, observing life and your surroundings. Baudelaire defined a flâneur as ‘a person who walks the city in order to experience it’.As Plum would say, I’m flâneuring like a motherfucker.”

“Abigail,’ he says. ‘I thought it was you.’‘Hi!’ I say loudly. ‘Mark!’‘Who?’ says Robert. Fuck, he doesn’t know his real name. Why do I give everyone stupid nicknames?‘I almost don’t recognise you out of your SKINNY JEANS,’ I enunciate carefully. He’s wearing grey flannel trousers and a pink T-Shirt with leather Converses. He speaks clothes exceptionally confidently for a straight man. I wonder if he’d take me shopping.‘Oh, right. Got it.’‘That’s odd,’ says Skinny Jeans. ‘Since I was wearing nothing at all when you left my room without saying goodbye . . . let’s see, seven weeks ago?’‘Um, yes. Well, you know . . .’ I trail off. Come on, Robert, I think desperately.‘I’m sorry, were you planning on making me breakfast in bed?’ says Robert. Yes! Make a joke!‘I’m sorry, were you planning on making me breakfast in bed?’ I say.Skinny Jeans grins.‘Scrambled eggs? Toast? On a little tray?’‘Scrambled eggs? Toast? On a little tray with a rose on it?’ I say.‘Don’t fuck with my script,’ says Robert, which makes me grin slightly more broadly”

“I've discovered the secret to successful singledom. I'm acting like a man. And it's working.”