Keeping in touch
By kostasAu
It’s drizzling, and I’m cold, waiting in the queue for quarter of an hour now. Aside lays a bag of rubbish. It stinks. Someone, getting in the booth, says, “thank you”, to the other for holding the door. After him it’s my turn. I jingle the change in my pocket with anticipation. I just got them braking into a pound. Bought sweets and a pen - these greek cigarettes seem strong recently and while I revise I smoke so much more. A middle-aged couple is coming my way. Their dog makes a move for the bag. The lady stops it with a single word. I swear under my breath – In Greek. At last, the other one gets out. He slams the door behind him. I get in kicking the bag. There was no one home. http://www.btinternet.com/~kostas.hrisos Written January 3rd, 2002 © on Jan 02 2002 11:29 PM PST 0 • 10
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"It’s drizzling, and I’m cold,..."