When Jamie opened the door to let Annie into the warm dry house, a gust of cold wind blew through the front of him but didnÕt make it out the back. And when she stepped into the house, it felt like he was the one taking the step. As they made their way to the kitchen, Jamie felt himself being pulled back, the weight of each step linked like a chain to his past. They sat down at the kitchen table, their eyes meeting briefly over its round, white surface.

"So whyÕd you invite me over?" Annie asked.

"I donÕt know," Jamie said, "I guess I just wanted to hang out."

Annie sighed, "But we decided that wasnÕt what was best for us right now."

No.Jamie thought, ThatÕs what you decided. "Yeah, I know," he said, a weak smile pulling at one corner of his mouth.

"So what am I doing here then?" Annie asked.

Jamie jumped up and went to the stove. "Would you like some tea?" Opening the lid to the stainless steel kettle he noticed the little plastic bird at the spout, its lips pursed, always ready to sing.

"Sure." Annie said.

Jamie filled the kettle halfway, put it over a high flame, then stood next to the stove and leaned back against the counter, his arms folded across his chest. He glanced at Annie before turning his gaze to the whitewashed floorboards. Annie tilted back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling. HadnÕt they been there before? Jamie always got to this point, felt he was ready to talk, had something to say. But each time heÕd end up just telling her she was beautiful or trying to kiss her. At first it had been fine but after a few weeks Annie had longed to hear from him, not just see his smile. She wanted a man. Someone who spoke his mind, said no, told her he was pissed off. But Jamie only smiled. Every time she tried to bring him out, heÕd close down. After six months, sheÕd given up and gone off with someone else.

Now Jamie stands in silence. Next to him, the bird on the kettle begins to whisper, the first waves of heat forcing their way through its lips. While Jamie screams to himself Just fucking say it. Say something. Anything. You love this girl. Say that. You hate this fucking girl. Say that. Open your mouth, lift your tongue. Speak!

"What kind of tea would you like?" he asks. "It doesnÕt matter," Annie shrugs. Jamie leans back against the stove. The water has begun to boil. Little bubbles rise from the bottom and burst into the air at the surface.

"ItÕs good to see you Annie" he says, "ItÕs been quiet around here. EveryoneÕs away." His tone rises, "Remember that last time everyone went away, that party we had?"

"Look Jamie, this is too hard for me. If thereÕs something you need to tell me, then tell me. If not, IÕm leaving."

Behind him the kettle has begun to hiss, gathering momentum. The steam rises into the birdÕs throat. The little plastic bird, just waiting to sing. Annie watches Jamie. The kettle starts to whistle. Steam shoots out like spray from a half blocked hose.

"Jamie do you want to turn that off?" Annie gestures towards the kettle. "Jamie, the kettle!"

Jamie looks at her and opens his mouth. The bird is screaming.