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En Vacances 3: Grant

“I want a drink.”

My words sound petulant in my ears like a small child demanding a treat, and my tongue, unused to forming words, feels thick in my mouth. It had seemed like a good idea holidaying alone, ten days in the sun, an opportunity to relax and recharge my personal batteries away from the daily grind, but a holiday can be a lonely place and I’ve spent three days lying alone, eating alone, drinking alone and sleeping alone.

I find myself trying to remember the last time I’d spoken to someone, the last time my lips and tongue had worked in unison to produce intelligible sound. Breakfast was self-service, and I’d avoided the a la carte restaurant in favour of the more relaxed buffet. Here I’d hid myself at a corner table sipping at a large glass of wine and picking at the food I’d scattered across my plate whilst making sure I avoided eye contact with any of my fellow guests.

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