Park Royale

He sat in the car, studiously avoiding the newspaper for fear of missing her pass. On her way home. It was a good day, and he’d finished work early which gave a nice opportunity to catch up. Always the socialite. Maybe they could have a pint. Or a cup of tea.

The waiting game was relieved to an extent by the radio, but there was only so much inane chatter with which he could cope. Let it go on, let it go off… the sounds of 60s pop faded to nothing as he turned off the radio, snapping into silence unlike the valve sets of the music’s own era.

Twenty four minutes.

That’s not too bad, he thought. She must be due back any time now. Any time. Time was forgetting to pass, in the main, but at least it seemed now that it was getting to the point of coming home. So here he was. And there she’d be. ¬†Soon, he hoped.

The sound of a truck horn startled him and he wondered if he’d dozed properly. Had he missed her? Could be. He’d been sat for three quarters of an hour now, and he knew she was nearly always on her way back by now. The window whined as he let it sink and enveloped himself in the stale city air, to keep himself fresh.

And so she was. Walking. Past. No stopping. Perhaps she’d not seen. Perhaps…

He picked out his phone and dialled her number. No reply. Looked at his phone again. There was just the text from earlier. Only now did it seem true.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.