#FOWC. Empirical

“EMPIRICAL. EMPIRICAL. Bah!”

Dan spat out his words. What the hell did science know about anything! Oh yeah. Two and two make four. But it doesn’t know who’s knocking on my door! Yeah, it might be Julie, and what does science know about things of the heart. That bloody Julie had let him down. Broken his heart. Now they were just a statistic. Well his heart didn’t feel like a statistic. It felt bloody awful.

He knew all about statistics, did Dan. Did it at University. It all felt like the Golden Age then. Nights out with the lads, partying, girls. He’d not had much to do with girls before, and was ready for a few mad flings. That was where he’d first met Julie. She seemed nice enough. From a “good” family. Titled, no less. He was taken in. But he had a lot to learn, and one thing was, don’t believe a girl when she’s drunk. Promised him the earth, she did. And he took it. Right there and then. The earth moved. He saw stars.

Not long after that, “I’m pregnant.” And that was another statistic. But it was a bloody world shaking thing to have happened. Then, the next shocker, “I don’t know whose it is. But it might be yours.”

Suddenly Dan did not feel himself to be in the Golden Age.

“What you gonna do?” He shot at her.

“Dunno,” she said. “I’ll be letting you know.”

And off she walked.

That had been four years ago. And he was still waiting for the knock on his door. Was that a statistic too?

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