Your Politics: A Super Short Story

Your politics

“It’s your politics,” she said.

“Not my politics love, you’ve been the one sitting here telling me” the taxi driver who happened to be a man said.

“Don’t call me love, it’s Michelle. It’s that attitude that tells me you still don’t understand,” Michelle said to the driver.

“And I never will, look we’re here. If you think that you have it so bad you can swap with me, work till five this morning, too wrecked to spend time with your family, fine. I wouldn’t mind going into a cushy job like yours, wear a headset, carry a clipboard and shout at people. I could do that just fine. Otherwise, it’s £9.80.” the driver said.

Michelle paid the driver and got out of the car she was followed by her fellow passenger who had remained silent throughout the whole exchange.

“You could have said something back there Rory,” Michelle said to the other person.

“I believe that you’re strong enough to fight your battles on your own” Rory said.

Michelle opened the door to the apartment complex. Rory went on through the door first, and Michelle followed.

They took the lift up to her floor and went into her apartment. The far wall of the living room was a big window. It looked onto the marina below and ahead of them the developing skyline.


Construction had stopped on one of the buildings at the far side of the harbour; a worker had fallen and died. Michelle was tired of looking at the ugly scaffolding.

Michelle turned on the living room light. She looked at the coffee table and saw take-away containers mixed in with cups. Some of those cups had been there so long that there was life developing in the bottom of them. They were her cups her choice but Michelle refused to clean, she didn’t want to become her mother, that’s why she hired Izabella.

Michelle liked Izabella even though she was not supposed to be in Northern Ireland, but it meant that Michel got a good discount on the services.

Michelle thought that maybe immigration services had finally caught up with her and that’s why she had not been. She would miss Izabella, but cleaners were replaceable.


Michelle turned the living room light off; she could bring Rory into the kitchen and then the bedroom. The living room was a no-go. Michelle looked at the door to her apartment to see that Rory was still standing there.

“Are you sure that you want me to enter?” said Rory.

“Rory I’m very sure but to do that you’ll need to come into the apartment first,” Michelle said with a smile. Rory laughed and walked towards her.

“You’ve got a great sense of humour like early Lisa Lampanelli,” Rory said.

“I don’t know who that is,” said Michelle. She walked backwards, leading him towards the kitchen.

“She’s a stand-up comedian; I hate that phrase, stand-up, Stephen Hawking could have been the funniest person alive. Actually, I hate the word person too, why not perdaughter?” Rory said.

Rory talked on for some time, Michelle zoned out and just took it all in. The whole night had been wonderful. They met at a fundraiser. Rory first caught Michelle’s ear when she overheard Rory repeatedly saying “Doesn’t matter” to a female judge. The judge was asking Rory why companies didn’t just only hire females staff if they could get away with paying them less.


Michelle and Rory got talking at the bar and realised that they had a lot in common. Both of them watched Ghostbusters 2016 on Kodi boxes because it left the cinemas too quickly, arrest people for googling Souad Faress, and the gender suicide gap needs widening.

Rory looked great, suit and tie and Michelle could tell that underneath the body was firm. Rory’s job was in stocks, but Michelle didn’t care, “It’s your politics” she remembers saying back at the bar.

It was the first time that Michelle had said it and meant it. Now she was standing in her kitchen with Rory. Michelle noticed that the talking had stopped.

“Let’s go into the bedroom,” Michelle said taking Rory’s hand without asking.

“I don’t think I should,” Rory said.

“C’mon you gotta enter into the joie de vivre of it all” Michelle said pulling him along.

“I love that you know French, you have been reminding me of powerful women the whole night and now there’s one more,” Rory said.


Michelle went on into her bedroom and turned on the light. Izabella better come back soon. Rory stood at the door.

“Who?” Michelle asked taking off her earrings and necklace.

“Marine Le Pen,” Rory said. Michelle stopped what she was doing.

“Marine Le Pen, right. Come on in.”

“Can I come into the bedroom?” Rory asked.

“I want you to come into the bedroom,” Michelle said.

“I want to respect you,” Rory said.

“And that is really sexy; I would like it if you came on in”. Michelle said.

“I’m coming into the bedroom,” Rory said.


Rory stood by a chest of drawers, looking for something. Michelle undressed, watching Rory.

“I’m over here,” she said.

“I’m looking for a stand, something to wedge my phone with,” Rory said scanning the ground.

“Your phone doesn’t need to be out,” Michelle said.

“It’s better to film encounters in case there is a dispute,” Rory said.

“There’s not going to be a dispute, come over here now,” Michelle said. Michelle was naked and under the covers.

Rory stood fully dressed beside the bed and looked down at her.

“Can I take off my clothes, get into bed beside you and kiss you?” Rory asked.

“I’ve wanted you to do that the whole night,” Michelle said. Rory got undressed, into the bed and began kissing Michelle.

“I love how you dealt with that taxi driver, you stand your ground like Arlene Foster,” Rory said between kisses.


“Can I kiss down, your neck and chest until I reach your breasts?” Rory asked.

“Yep,” Michelle said, Rory proceeded.


“You know what I like about your breasts; you have two of them. One breast for each female conservative Prime Minister.” Rory said. “I like how you don’t, hold on, may I put my hand on your genitals?” Michelle shrugged then nodded. “I like how you have a total of zero penis’. You have as many penis’ as Labour have had female leaders. I hate penis’ they disgust me when I first saw one I knew I was a lesbian”.

“Lesbian?” Michelle said.

“Whatever phrase you want to use, some of my friends say, we’re not lesbian we’re lesdoing, I love that.”

“You’re a man.”

“I was born with male anatomy, but I’m very much a woman.”

“You wear a suit.”

“I don’t believe in the gender binary.”

“Your name is Rory.”

“Gilmore Girls helped me realise who I was,” Rory said. There was a moment’s silence between the two. Rory got out of bed and started dressing. “You know for a homophobe you sure disguised it well, I’m going to go.”


“I’ve had a lovely evening, but, look it’s not you.”

“I don’t care,” Michelle said.

“It’s your politics.”


Hi, Kieran here. Did you like the story? If you did you might want to consider checking out my ongoing short story serial, Space Janitor.

Would you mind reading from the beginning because it’s a fantastic place to start. You can find the first instalment of Space Janitor by clicking here.

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