Friday, 6 November 2009

one story 3 ways part 1

1st person, present tense

‘Bloody taxis,’ I say as I fall out of the taxi, ‘don’t make the bloody door holes big enough.’ I’m always falling out of them. Spend a lot of time on the floor. Glynn pays the driver. Good job ‘cos I’m skint.

I find my way inside. No point in dawdling about on the pavement. It’s not my usual kind of place. It’s upmarket. You have to show that you’re confident, to make sure you blend in with the clientele.

I can hear my heels clacking on the marble floor. It echoes. There’s a high ceiling.

I like it, it’s very contemporary. Brown sofas and low glass tables and the same brown leather on the stools at the bar, where I wait, for my companion to catch up and buy a round.

I peruse the cocktail menu and order the most expensive on the list.

Glynn finally plucks up the courage to come inside. He’s wearing a suit jacket especially for the occasion. He’s also wearing trainers. I look at him enduringly until he submits and lets me put his debit card behind the bar for a tab.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have done that, but I bet he thinks all his Christmases have come at once; out on a night on the town with me. 

No comments: