|Brief Encounter (standard:drama, 818 words)|
|Author: Jason Donegan||Added: Dec 27 2001||Views/Reads: 2117/1||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|One man's turmoil of unwanted attention|
Brief Encounter By Jason Donegan Henry’s was the sort of place he’d go just to chill out for a few hours on a mad afternoon. Drink some fine coffee, read a little of the world’s events and generally drop out of the rat race for a while. Its oak-lined walls gave the establishment a sort of musty ambience that you only get in old café’s. None of these new purpose built places, designed by graduates could quite grasp the character that a place gets when it evolves over 60 or so years. Sipping his coffee and scanning the foreign news, he uncharacteristically glanced up and his eyes caught them of another man. Dressed in a similar style, tortoise rimmed glasses that were ‘all the craze’ with the young professional most of whom didn’t even need glasses and so had them fitted with pain glass, short tidy hair and clean shaven. His suit was obviously not off the peg and clung to him like a well fitted glove. The gentleman smiled a warm smile and then returned his attention to his read. The next time he changed pages of his broadsheet he again caught eye contact with his mirrored image and a little anxiety began to fill him. Who was this person and why was he staring at him. His mind raced at the thought of this chap being interested in him not for his business contacts or ability to deal, but for something he didn't want to give, in fact didn’t even want to consider giving. He glanced down at his cup and felt his pulse begin to rush. He’d come to this place to dropout of the loop his life had become. He’d often thought he was stuck in the same day. His life seemed to restart on the same morning each time he awoke, and how it grated with him. He resented yet envied those people whose life wasn’t dictated by the last working day of each month. He hated the fact that he owed most of his life to companies who received regular injections of cash from his account. Even the way his account was organised annoyed him. Designed to expose him to minimum stress by paying the lenders the same day he was paid to ensure that when he checked his statement on the same day each month at the same cash machine he knew exactly how much he had to spend until his next pay check. It seemed the things he’d thought about to make his life less stressful made him just more so. How he envied those with nothing. Everything he possessed was in material form, yet he never owned any of it, and by the time he'd finally paid for it he’d disposed of it. In fact he’d realised a long time ago that he never actually own anything. Now he was sitting across from somebody who made him uneasy about the day, he was uncomfortable in his safe haven, and had had his escape portal from the warp speed work zone invaded. The place were he vanished from his stress had been intruded into by somebody who knocked him from his balance. And he didn’t like it. Every few moments he’d look up and see this person peering into his soul, searching deep within the dark places of his personality. He felt naked in front of him, he felt like he was being stripped of his Armani suit, of his Varsace shirt and Christie’s tie. He felt exposed for the world to see. Anger was beginning to flow over the rim of his pot of control. He felt his face flushing like a warning beacon, and he could almost here the warning sirens. Gradually he calmed himself. Slowly he clawed at the walls of control and managed to grasp it with both hands as he felt his heart rate and blood pressure lower. He’d never felt any resentment towards homosexuals before, although one had never eyed him up before. This person before him had really got beneath his skin, had really stoked something up from deep within him. He felt a bead of sweat run from his armpit down the side of his body and become soaked in his crisp blue shirt. He was beginning to despise this person in front of him, somebody he’d never met, somebody he’d never spoken to, somebody he didn’t know. He cursed this uncharacteristic emotion, this wasn’t like him but each time he looked at this person he felt like he could hear his immoral thoughts about him Suddenly his nemesis rose from the table he sat at. Gently folding his newspaper and placing it on the table for the next person to read, he casually walked towards the door. As he walked passed he placed a firm hand on his shoulder and whispered into his ear. “You do know your flies are undone?” Tweet
Authors appreciate feedback!
Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
Jason Donegan has 5 active stories on this site.
Profile for Jason Donegan, incl. all stories
For a quick, anonymous response to the author of this story, type
a message below. It will be sent to the author by email.