Choice(unfinished)
The rain glinted the neons of the strip
I halted a yawn and glanced at the time
Half two it seemed later
The radio buzzed and leapt onto some cheesy 80’s pop.the tune was familiar but I couldn’t name the band
Tapping the wheel to the over saturated baseline
Passing buy some beggar as he laid some cardboard in a shop front.it’s edges floppy and folding from the night rain.His scruff of a dog shivering at his masters side. Fucking life
Not one hire in the last hour.At this rate will have to work extra hours.Fumbling on my dash for my half eaten Snickers and chewed it noisily to myself.
I could feel the caramel coat my teeth.licking them to try and disturb it.Finally shifting it with some gargled 5 hour old cold coffee.Not a good mix
Turning down fourth I flipped the radio to the blues station.yeah that’s gonna cheer you up.some guy ripping his heart out about the loss of his love.
The street was dimly lit, maybe a problem with the lamps, so I flicked my beams on.
From the doorway of some late night shop a figure
pulled at his collar and threw a hand in my direction
Slowing down to the curb as not to splash him.My hand instinctively starting my meter
The man slid himself to the middle of my back seats
, his fingers brushing his hair to remove the traces of rain
“Wow what a fucking night”, he smiled at me
“Not the day to forget your umbrella”
“Where to” I nodded back to him
He stroked his chin as if in thought “The bay”
At las a decent fare I thought as I slowed at the red
“Heather that’s unusual “ his voice a finely tuned muddle of lows
“Yeah Danny Heather pleased to meet you” I nodded
“Is that a Scottish accent”
I nodded yes “my fathers side “ beeping my horn at some rich dick in a neon coloured roadster.
He relaxed back in his seat, his face slightly obscured by shadow.His face was pale a mop of black curls sat atop his head.High cheekbone that seemed to accent his sparkling blue eyes.
A black thick overcoat hid a black well fitted suit beneath, Italian by the look of it.
“Lovely country, the land of the water of life” he quipped
“There kisses are a bit violent” he chuckled
A smile cracked its way over his face.
He glanced at my mirror where hung some momentos
and my fathers St Christopher
“The carrier of Christ” his monotone voice ushered
I felt a shiver creep down my spine as if the door had swung open, my mind drifting into past
The day that Trudy snapped played in my mind
So quiet Trudy was
but not that day one push to many
I can still hear the crunch as she brought the teachers metal ruler down upon her bullies hand and the smile as she picked his pinky up from his blood soaked desk
and held it aloft, like some sort of prize.
Mrs Jenkins never returned to school and No one ever bothered her again.
Just as quickly as it had occurred the feeling disappatied,
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