She shouted across the bar, pointed to the little map.
He listened, didn’t hear and shouted back.
It went back and forth.
They got nowhere.
Well, they got lost.
They asked for Becks, he gave them Metz.
They got irate, refused to pay and stormed off.
He, shamefacedly, had to explain to his boss.
And paid.
He didn’t recognise them.
He couldn’t understand their annoyance.
He let someone else take over.
He didn’t see them.
For over forty minutes.
No wonder they soaked him.
Immediately after, a frequent customer smiled kindly and asked for his number.
He gave her a flier, underlining the bar’s number.
She asked again, he gave an annoyed look and jabbed the flier.
She pushed it back and walked away, normally he had much more to say.
He shrugged, carried on.
It was only later he realised it was her.
And, while pouring her usual for someone else, he wondered… and spilt the drink.
And was ordered away from the bar.
It was just one of those shifts, one spent well outside the required zone.
One not taking in anyone’s words or faces, just order, fulfillment, order, fulfillment.
A buzz filling his head.
Why did they play the music so loud?
Often he dreamed of sleepy seaside tavernas.
While collecting glasses outside he spotted his regular drinking alone across the street.
In the relative quiet of the nightlife he crossed toward her preparing his apology.
Hoping it was necessary.
He had often dreamed about her too.
Written for Faber Academy's QuickFic from the following picture prompt (there was actually a choice of three...).
Well done to the winner and and runners-up! (including me!)
He listened, didn’t hear and shouted back.
It went back and forth.
They got nowhere.
Well, they got lost.
They asked for Becks, he gave them Metz.
They got irate, refused to pay and stormed off.
He, shamefacedly, had to explain to his boss.
And paid.
He didn’t recognise them.
He couldn’t understand their annoyance.
He let someone else take over.
He didn’t see them.
For over forty minutes.
No wonder they soaked him.
Immediately after, a frequent customer smiled kindly and asked for his number.
He gave her a flier, underlining the bar’s number.
She asked again, he gave an annoyed look and jabbed the flier.
She pushed it back and walked away, normally he had much more to say.
He shrugged, carried on.
It was only later he realised it was her.
And, while pouring her usual for someone else, he wondered… and spilt the drink.
And was ordered away from the bar.
It was just one of those shifts, one spent well outside the required zone.
One not taking in anyone’s words or faces, just order, fulfillment, order, fulfillment.
A buzz filling his head.
Why did they play the music so loud?
Often he dreamed of sleepy seaside tavernas.
While collecting glasses outside he spotted his regular drinking alone across the street.
In the relative quiet of the nightlife he crossed toward her preparing his apology.
Hoping it was necessary.
He had often dreamed about her too.
Written for Faber Academy's QuickFic from the following picture prompt (there was actually a choice of three...).
Well done to the winner and and runners-up! (including me!)
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