|Finding The Way Back (standard:romance, 3154 words) [1/6] show all parts|
|Author: Cyrano||Updated: Jun 13 2009||Views/Reads: 1617/885||Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Life is fragile...James finds out at a moments notice. Chapter one of something entirely different for me. Hardly life in the fast lane...but life. I'll post chapters every couple of days...after my weak editing.|
As you get older, the weeks, then the months and finally the years fly past. This unusually profound thought drifted through James's weary mind as he slumped into the car and pulled the seatbelt across. Everything seemed to smack of conformity, and now how hastily his life is slithering into a smug middle-aged existence. Hands on the steering wheel, he gazed through the windscreen, unaware how the shadows of the Beech trees shaded the sunlit road's surface. His thought process rumbled on toward an inescapable conclusion: that every working day in his well ordered life was exactly the same. Before his first major decision of the day—cornflakes or shredded wheat—he takes his wife a cup of tea in bed. At five minutes before eight he leaves for work, listening to the tragedies of the world on the car radio. He looks forward to the forthcoming weekend with mixed feelings. It is Patricia's birthday next Tuesday and he's promised to take her shopping to buy a new dress. He's not exactly sure why he did this, as there's nothing he likes less than accompanying her. The very prospect has him cringing at the thought and he could see it all before him. Had it been only ten weeks since the trip to the January sales? He squirmed, recalling it as though it were yesterday. “What do you think of this one James? Do you think I suit blue? Does it make me look too fat?” He had responded to her sideways glance with a forced display of interest as she preened and swirled in front of a mirror. “I like it very much, darling.” “You said you liked the green one the best.” “That was three shops ago,” he responded, weakly. “You know James, you just tell me anything. All you want is to get home and watch golf on television. I don't know why I ask you” “Well why do you ask me?” “Because you are my husband and you should show some interest. It should be important to you how I look.” The sharp edge in her voice was reinforced with a glower. “It is important to me how you look,” he had replied with a measured display of indignity. “I really do like the blue dress you're trying on. Just out of interest, how much is it?” Inspection of the price tag introduced a further complication into the equation. “It's too expensive. We'll have to go somewhere else.” “Is there somewhere else we haven't tried?” She had looked over to him with narrow challenging eyes. He blinked and reviewed the options. He could weaken and the afternoon stretch out to late evening. The dress could have matching shoes, a hat, and a handbag! Or he could remain firm but pleasant and get home in good time to watch ‘British Open' highlights. So he had raised a thin smile and peered blandly over his spectacles. Her reaction was equally ambiguous and she spun around and swept off to the changing booths whilst he began to gather up the parcels and grinned sheepishly at the shop assistant. “We'll try somewhere else. Thank you.” The young girl had picked up the parcels he had dropped on to the floor and stacked them onto his outstretched arms tucking them neatly below his chin, smiling sympathetically. Then staggered after Eileen as she strode out of the store. The exertion of a hard week's toil palled into insignificance compared to a few hours roaming from shop to shop in a seething city center on a Click here to read the rest of this story (297 more lines)
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