The Sun sat low to the horizon, barely risen as eyes, crusted with sleep opened slowly. Even this weak early morning light harsh and unforgiving slicing through the after effects of last nights excess. The evening had begun quietly enough, a couple of beers over a pleasant enough meal, steak, medium rare, potato gratin, peas, a hollandaise sauce. A couple of shots to follow, post prandial chasers to aid digestion, a couple become three, four, the singles becoming doubles as the night wears heavy, the bitterness of dining alone, the chafing rawness of potential unfulfilled, maybe just a bad result for his team. There is always an excuse, but never the truth. 

Another morning, another time, the same sleep crusted eyes open, not to sunlight but the infinitely more harsh reality of steel bars, the tread of the jailers boot, the hopelessly cheerful whistling of souls lost in this concrete and steel purgatory. Another meal, a few drinks, the drive home. Another excuse for the inexcusable, the accident someone else’s fault. The court found differently, five years the sentence, but there is always an excuse, until you have to face the truth….


About Autistic writing

Im 46, autistic and vocal about it, a specialist autism mentor in higher education, embarking on my MEd in adult autism, autistic advocate and campaigner, writer and co-founder of asP - the autism strategy partnership #differentnotdamaged #askaboutasP

2 thoughts on “Excuses

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