The greasy spoon café at the end of the high street serves the best breakfast in town. At 8am on a Monday morning, the place is rammed.
He waits for her to speak. They’ve been sitting there for over twenty minutes and yet neither has dared utter a word.
It’s so busy that you can’t even hear yourself think. You’re subject to listening to what Tiffany got up to on Saturday night or the three kids in the corner giving their poor mother hell. And then the guy behind the counter, student type cranks up the radio because he’s just heard a song reminding him about what he got up to on Saturday night. She was a cracker. He exaggerated big time when telling his mates about their afterhours activities but it wasn’t like he was going to be seeing her again anytime soon.
He can see the steady stream of tears running down her face. He feels the hot, salty sting on his own lips.
Tiffany howls with laughter in the corner as a group of builders in plastic, orange hats walk in. She wouldn’t say no to that one with the cheeky smile. He wants to buy her a cuppa. Eighty pence, hardly breaking the bank, she was thinking more of a full English. She spent her lunch money on fags at the offie. The Asian guy who owns the place is the only one who doesn’t ID.
He reaches across for her hand. She pulls it away as if his touch has scalded her skin.
One of the kids has broken loose from the table in the corner. Mr. Builder man hasn’t seen the little one. He’s too busy making eyes at the bird in the corner with the big tits.
He tries to meet her gaze but she averts her eyes.
Tiffany finds her tea being poured into her cleavage. Her impressive cleavage thanks to those chicken fillet things she had stolen from that posh lingerie place at the other end of the high street.
“What the fuck?!” she screeches.
Finally he breaks, demanding her attention.
Tiffany don’t give a shit that the kid is only five, she’s threatening to sue. Ranting and raving like a madwoman. The poor mum in the corner has only had three hours sleep. She can’t deal with all of this. She’ll buy Tiffany another cuppa and then they can leave it at that. But Tiffany doesn’t want another bleeding cuppa. She wants the Full English. She spent her lunch money on fags. Mr. Builder man agrees. It was him that forked out the eighty pence for the cup of tea. The poor mum sitting in the corner thinks the whole thing is ridiculous. Isn’t the guy behind the counter going to intervene?
He bangs his fist on the table.
The student doesn’t want to get involved. He doesn’t have to. It’s eight twenty. The bus pulls up outside the greasy spoon café. Tiffany can’t afford to be late for school. Allow all of this. The builders need to get to work. The poor mum in the corner is dreading the school run. They file out silently. The guy behind the counter turns down the volume on the radio.
“I’m dying” she whispers.
I can see that prose is also effective for you. I like the detached narrative style. Where did your idea come from? What do you think of this piece?
ReplyDeleteI love this! I think you really capture the nonsense and 'everydayness' of life that continues in the background even after life changing news/events. Also the fact that all these people are in this one place at the one time, but their experiences of it are so different. It made me think about anonymity, and the way people go about their daily lives without really thinking about who the person on the table or the seat next to them is or what they are facing in their lives.
ReplyDeleteI also like how you are more informal in your choice of language, using words like "cuppa", "fags" and "those chicken fillet things" (and especially "allow all of this"!!)...I think it works really well! :-)
Donald....I took a creative writing module in second year and so the shorter story with the girl who is dying was actually a piece of flash fiction that I had written for that and I sort of filled in the gaps. Like Laura said, I was trying to focus on the menial activities that are constantly taking place around us that we do not necessarily pay any attention to.
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