Jack Of Albion

Jack wanted to tell the driver the whole story, to turn the cab into a mobile confession booth. “Forgive me driver, for I have sinned…”

He wanted to tell someone, anyone. Tell them about the events of the past six months, the shattered hearts and the sadness that flowed like a torrent when he told her 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.”

He wanted to tell about the girl he had fallen in love with, the girl whose address he was now telling the driver to take him to. How he had met her, first as his Ukrainian tutor and now…

He wanted to talk about the geo-political events that had to happen to bring them together. Her country invaded twice. The murder machine of the West spinning into full gear to provide an avalanche of weapons to fight the occupation. The bravery of the кіборги in Donetsk Airport, which she watched from her window and he from his laptop all those years ago. The men who had to die, just to bring her to him.

“Wanna hear a mad story?”

“Lo siento, chico, no hablas Ingles.”