Interlude : Authors notes

Interlude
Authors notes

As with most stories I write (and sadly never really finish, fingers crossed for this one) I never really have a plan. There are always a few ideas that make a very slim line a story can balance on. But alas the line is never really all that stable and the plot tends to fall off (sadly no safety net).
This story was no exception. A simple idea grew into a few more, but as I was writing I realised that the original character Chris, wasn’t as strong as I wanted (Which is kind of hard to say because he is basically a more confident character of myself). Also the romance between Donna and Himself wasn’t all that interesting, and couldn’t really see where to go with them next.

The other couple in the story George and Carol, both in their 40’s have lived a life of love but also heart ache and sorrow. They have both lost something dear to them, their children. Carol who by choice lost her child, turning her back on her previous marriage, leaving all she had in that life for a new life with George.
George sadly lost his son due to an incident (One which has not yet been clarified) and his life is falling apart around him. One of those things is the relation between his wife Carol. Having agreed to take a break to let her think things through, George has gone to Paris to promote his new novel.

I have been struggling for awhile now on how to progress the story. Thinking it other I now see that George is the strongest character to write for. So many raw emotions and a past that isn’t so clear, he seems like his life, his tale would be what people would immerse themselves in. A new romance is always great to read and watch blossom. But a relationship that’s past its prime, a foundation that has been worked on, to make it what it is, to make it work. That is life, which is interesting, that has the potential to evoke the emotions I want the readers to feel.

When I started off writing this story I didn’t do it tell a tale, it was and still is a test to see if I can write and draw emotions and feelings from people. I want the reader to feel every pain and sorrow and every breath escape them as it does from the characters.

So now, writing this while eating my chocolate and drinking my tea, I just wanted to say that I, along with my thoughts and ideas are on the line. Looking down I get a sense of vertigo ripping through me. But a deep breath will clear my head. I hope these ideas come together, and I hope that I am able to finish this story.

I just wanted to thank the people, those of you who have read up to this point.
Thank you.
And for those who will continue to read, I fucking love you!
- David Davis
01/09/2010

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - Interlude

Chatper 7

Carol and George, both exhausted by the day’s arguments and heavy talks sat in the front room. Carol sat on the edge of the sofa, her head buried in her hands. Her back curled she crouched forward. Her crying had stopped now, her eyes dry and sore, her throat even more so. George sat on the floor in front of her, his back resting on the coffee table. His knees held by his hands close to his chest. And his chin resting between the legs, he too had stopped crying, his eyes looking up at her, like a puppy to its master, after getting shouted out. He sat there in silence waiting. There had been many drinks of coffee and many more cigarettes over the past five hours or so. Two empty cups rested be beside his head and beside them the ash tray full of stubbed out fag ends. He was still looking at her with those eyes, still waiting. He raised his head and let it fall back a little tightening his neck muscles he twisted it. His tongue touched the cut on his lip. Though it wasn’t bleeding it tasted of iron. Still he waited.
His hands separated and one reached for the box of cigarettes that lay on the floor. Opening the box he sighed, it was empty.
Picking up the empty cups he made his way to the kitchen. Placed them on a counter and lit the stove the kettle rested on. There was water inside, he knew this.
Jesus she slaps hard, he thought touching the cut on his lip once more. He smiled, it hurt him a little but he still smiled. He was suddenly amazed by her. He was amazed how she managed to hold that anger in for so long. No wonder it hurt like hell, there was at least three years worth of force behind that slap. He had been there for him, she had sacrificed so much, everything she had said had all been true, and he knew this.
Does she still love you?
His smile faded.
You have changed a lot lately, for the worse.
His face now showing pain.
But Christ, I’ve lost my son!
He felt the cold rush through his body, his hands shaking, his stomach turning and his legs feeling weak, like they wouldn’t be able to hold his weight. He half lunged, half fell to the sink washing cold water over his face.
His eyes now clear of water as he wiped his hand down, he looked to the window, now nothing more than a mirror as the black night sky created a backdrop. There he saw his reflection, there he saw the man he once was slowly splitting into two. The original reflection slowly faded, turning transparent and the new him became whole. This was the him now. He looked at the reflection. He looked tired, angry, sad and full of hate.
How could anyone love this man?
And just like that, the answer he had been waiting so long to hear from her lips, he heard from his own thoughts. No.
The kettle whistled it's tune and he set about making to cups of coffee. He was about to take them to the front room, but instead put them on a tray. Grabbing an empty glass from the cupboard he filled it with cold water and placed a few ice cubes in it.
I need to change, I will change!
The ice cubes hitting the glass made a sweet tune, but stopped as he placed the tray on the coffee table.

She’s right, she always is.
He took the glass and handed it out towards her, she hadn’t noticed.
‘Carol?’
The jingle of ice hitting glass started to play again, his hands were shaking.
‘Carol, your right’
She looked up to him.
‘I’m sorry, but I need to’ she said taking the glass from his hand; hers were shaking more than his.
He sat down once more in front of her on the floor, his back against the coffee table.
‘Your right, I’m sorry. I really am.’ Again the puppy dog eyes appeared. She finished the water quite fast; even she was amazed at how thirsty she had been. He took the glass from her and as he did she leaned in closer to him, softly stroking the wounded lip.
‘I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to-’
‘I deserved it’ he said interrupting her.
She smiled, ‘Well, maybe a little.’
He smiled back. ‘I will be my old self again soon I promise you.’
Her hand retracted slowly, she pulled back some loose hair back behind her ear.
‘The answer, the answer you wanted-‘
Is no he thought How could you love a monster like me. The things I have done, the things I have said, to you. To my son, Oh god my son!
‘-It was always yes-’
His blinked rapidly what felt like a hundred times in a second, then a flood of tears started to stream from his eyes. ‘-And I will AWAYS love you.’
Then her hand once more touching the lip moving up the side of his face, he grasped her hand and held it there.
He rose up pulling her with him, embracing her with a strong hug, they kissed. They looked deep into each other’s eyes and kissed again. And again, they held their lips together tears streaming down the faces onto their lips the salty taste was nothing but the final seasoning to the perfect kiss.
The perfect goodbye kiss.

~

Neither Chris nor Donna had eaten much today and both hungry. The empty plates infront of them was proof of this.
‘At least I’m not the only one with an obsession with chocolate’ she said to him smiling.
Chris offered to pay for them, but Donna snuck the potions from the counter, her special discount for being "perfectly perfect at her job" was the phrase she used to her manager, smiling a sweet innocent smile, the smile of hers that Chris loved, the small bit of tongue sticking out teeth softly biting it. Her manager had looked over to Chris who waved. Turned back to Donna who still held the smile on her face, how could she resist, young love it’s bitch for business.

And so the empty plates lay in front of them.
‘Yeah, I got told once it was wrong for a guy to have such an obsession for chocolate’
‘Oh?’ Donna replied ‘And I bet you had an excellent and humorous come back?’ she said with that same sweet smile. God damn sexy!
‘You bet!’ he leaned closer to her, the expression on her face was one of puzzlement.
‘I said-’
There was a slight pause, he almost laughed now at her face. To have a sweet smile and the puzzled look merge together like that was a sceptical.
‘I said, Muuuuh-murrr-muur-muurh’ His tongue pressing into the side of his cheek giving the impression his mouth was full of food. There was that awkward silence (and rightly so).
He leaned back into his chair breathing in air through his teeth.
‘Yeah, not one of my best I’ll admit’ he said
She nodded in agreement. ‘Could use a little work’.
They laughed. He blushed, and she teased that smile again.
He stood grabbing the plates, she yawned. Then in a single second they both looked around to the other tables then back to each other.
‘Jesus it wasn’t that bad a joke was it?’ He said
She gave out a huge roar of laughter ‘Well I don’t know’ she said sarcastically.
But he had a point. Where the hell did everyone go? She wondered.
He moved the plates onto the counter, where he saw a note addressed to Donna.
‘Ummmm-’ He pointed to the letter, and promptly she moved to his side
‘What?’
‘-Letter for you’. He said, with confusion in his voice, but not as much that was represented on her face as she looked at it. She picked it up and started to read, it was only a short letter but said all that was needed to say



‘Jesus have you seen the time?’
She didn’t reply, she couldn’t the sheer amount of air that leapt from her lungs as the laughter poured out would make sure of it. She folded the paper and placed it in the back pocket of her jeans. The jeans fit her perfectly complimented that ‘’Pear’’ shape of hers.
She tapped his hand ‘Will you do me a favour and wash the plates while I get the keys.’
His faecal expression didn’t change from the shocked and confused look he possessed when he saw the empty cafe and the note for Donna. He wanted to know what was written on it, she knew he wanted to know. But unlike him, Donna also knew he would never know what was written on that note for her.
She was walking down a corridor that made its way from the kitchen ‘Ummm yeah sure’ he said, again the expression never changing.
He looked around the Cafe, how did he not notice that people where leaving? He started washing the plates they used, how did I not notice it? And the music too, so much louder now that no one’s here. Then as he started to wipe his hands and the lights started to go out around the cafe and as the juke box cut off and as the sound of clashing keys started to make their way towards him from the corridor another thought entered his mind. Shit I’ve got it bad for her!
‘You ready?’ her voice seemed kinda giddy.
She was there wearing her long winter coat grey scarf around her neck and the hood already up.
Keys in one hand and in the other was a folded down umbrella. A very yellow elaborate umbrella.
Now the confused look appeared on her face as he started to laugh.
Of course it was her with the yellow umbrella!

He grabbed his stuff and wrestled with the bag as he put it round his shoulder, pulling his hood out from under the bags strap.
‘Ok, let’s go.’
They made their way to the door, they both noticed the ‘Open’ notice was facing them. They both gave a little giggle. The lights went off the door opened they stepped out and the umbrella went up. The door locked, Donnas’ eyes were greeted with the sign displaying the Words ‘Closed’ to all those who would observe it. She turned to Chris, who had his hand held out. She took it with her free hand, the other holding the yellow umbrella up. The rain falling, but only lightly. The wind had died down to a soft relaxing breeze.
They made there way down the street.
‘So, what now?’ Donna said

~

‘So, what now?’ George said as he placed the last of the packed bags into the trunk of Carols car.
‘I really don’t know’. The rain was coming down but at a soft steady pace, where they lived was off the main road, and no street lamps for them to guide the way.
The only light they had was coming from the open doorway at the front of the house, which was a soft yellow glow. And the other light was a small but strong flood light just above the door. This emitted pure white light, which as it hit the rain drops made them look almost like pure snow.
This snow-like rain rested in patches on the ends of Carol’s hair, they sparkled wildly.
‘You don’t have to go tonight, wait till morning’.
She turned her back to him and started to open the driver’s door.
‘I mean, It’s late your exhausted and -’
The door opened.
‘-you don’t have anywhere to go!’ he finished.
She turned to him, he was right she was tiered, but she wouldn’t show it. Not now, she was the stronger one, she had won tonight she couldn’t let him see she still had any weakness, otherwise he would grasp it, twist it and turn it against her. He would win and she would stay and they would fight again and it would be worse than ever, she might strike him again, or worse he might strike her.
No. Show no fear, he’ll win. The Man I love never used fear against people, but this man would without a second’s thought!
‘I’ll find a "B&B’’ or a hotel, then I’ll drive to my sisters she knows I’ll be coming, just a little sooner than I said’. She did it, she hid the weakness from him, and she had a cool strong look on her and a smile to finish it off. He nodded and gave a huge sigh.
‘I’ve got that Book Tour to do in France in a few days, I’ll be there for a week or so-’
‘-We’ll meet after that and see how things go’ she said finishing off his words still displaying that cool smile. They hugged and kissed a soft simple kiss. She felt him shaking, it was because he was cold he said, but she knew there was more to it. He had lost his inspiration for his work, and his credibility because of it. He lost his fight to the drink, he had lost his son, this she knew how it felt and it pained her, he lost his son by chance, she lost hers by choice. His world was falling down around him, faster and stronger than the rain that falls now. And the wall he usually rests upon was leaving him too.
She was the one to sort out all of his thoughts and emotions when needed. Now it was his own choice. She hated herself at this point, she felt so guilty. But she left none the less. And he was stood there in the darkness, the light behind him. He was looking forward, looking at his wall leaving, falling. Would he be able to cope without it? He had lost so much already he was going to lose her!
He would fight!

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - Interlude

Chapter 6

As defined in the Oxford English Dictionary Love:
• noun 1) an intense feeling of deep affection. 2) a deep romantic or sexual attachment to someone. 3) a great interest and pleasure in something. 4) a person or thing that one loves.

And love at first sight? How would that be defined? Can someone love someone or something in an instant? In a single breathe or beat of that warm open heart? Chris always considered love as a feeling of lust, but lust that in time matured with a sense of warmth held in the strong firm hands of life, like a new born baby in the hands of its mother, gently rocked a soft voice singing. Love at first sight for him was never possible; his mind just wouldn’t allow it. That’s why when he looked at Donna he didn’t turn to jelly, feel faint of weak and get all nervous. The feeling when he looked at her wasn’t love at first sight, but lust. He wanted her. Everything about her aroused him, the way she walked, the soft voice that somehow came across as strong, and the words she spoke where of such confidence they make his hair stand on their end’s and a shiver of excitement running down his spine.
It wasn’t long before Donna placed a tray on the table, two big mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows and cream floating in the sweet tasting warmth and the notebook balancing on the edge of the rounded tray. He didn’t take his eyes off her, and she didn’t take her eyes off him, as she pulled out the chair and sat across from him beside the small table. The small table he always sits, in a corner hidden from most eyes. They took a mug each and she passed him the notebook, then placed the large tray (wasn’t really that it was large, but the table was quite small, so small the tray left little space for anything else)
There was a slight silence as they each adjusted themselves in their seats and arranging the mugs and notebook on the table so there was room to lean and rest their hands on.
‘I always wondered what you wrote in this’ she said softly tapping a corner of the well worn notebook. A thought of Oh crap she read it? Ran through his mind, his reaction displayed with the widened eyes and raised brows. Then a second thought quickly followed. My mouth is open isn’t it?
With that thought his mouth closed and his eyes and brows once more relaxed.
‘Your pretty good’ she continued to say, ignoring the reaction, for his benefit. That alone let her know how important this notebook was to him. The writings and drawings that it held weren’t created for fun or boredom or to prove a point, they where things that mattered. They where HIS thoughts his lies, his wishes and dreams. They where him, and this...these writings and drawings, these pages that held all aspects of him, she loved.
‘I like how you write, alot of truth in what is said’
‘Thanks’
They sipped and waited, each one waiting for the other to talk. It was in this brief silence that a thought occurred.
‘So you knew, it was mine?’ he said with a slight harshness to it.

No, not harshness more of a protective projection in the way he spoke. Like a man shouting NO at a son that was stretching out his finger, ready to touch the orange glow of a cigarette. Her neck straight and her head shot back slightly.
‘Yeah why?’
‘Oh nothing just surprised really’ he replied, his voice back to that relaxed vibe that he always emits. Though in his mind he couldn’t help but scream so why didn’t you give it me?
‘I was going to give it you, but I got carried away with it, I’m sorry’. Her eyes softened and Chris melted. God your sexy.
He picked up the notebook and started flicking through the pages. Each page was comforting to him, smiling has he did.
‘How long have you been writing?’ she said once more placing the mug onto the table, licking the sweet chocolate taste off her lip.
‘In this? Must be three years’
Still flicking through the pages his eyes no longer fixed on hers
‘I started off writing poems, just found it relaxing’
He came across a drawing, it was of a young girl smiling, her hair was lifted, most likely being blown in the wind. She wore a small necklace, her face short and round, her neck long and her shoulders thin. Apart from the smile her face held no other features. Donna took another sip watching him as he drifted off into his memories, just for a second.
‘Who was she?’
He placed the picture back in its place amongst the other doodles.
‘The first girl that gave me that oh so controversial feeling’ he said laughing.
She wasn’t completely sure what he meant, but didn’t want to ask. The idea she head in her head was nice enough.

The notebook returned to the table and Chris took the first sip of his drink. The cream had run down one side of the mug, and the marshmallows now nothing more than a soft cloud of sugar.
‘So you not working now?’ he said to her taking another sip, trying to catch up with her.
‘No, finished at five, i just stayed behind for a quick drink with a friend’
‘Oh, male friend?’ a cheeky smile appeared
‘No, my brothers girlfriend’
‘Oh so you have a brother?’
She raised her hand and showed off three of her small soft fingers.
‘Yourself?’
‘Nope’ he replied, ‘Just me ’
She didn’t ask but she didn’t need to, her eyes spoke the words for her.
‘My dad died a few years ago ’
‘My dad is the one that looks after us all, he’s a great guy but could never get used to cooking’
‘Ah well, as long as you have a microwave it’s all good’ he said laughing
‘Wow , you and my dad think alike’ laughing along with Chris.
He had caught up to her with taking another sip of his drink.
The door suddenly slammed, making the walls shake and the bell ring wildly. A man stood there wiping the rain off his face. The wind had picked up and the rain was hammering against the windows.

He made his way to the counter; a conversation about the weather seemed to take up most of his time there. Then when all that could be said was said, he ordered, paid and went to the table across from Chris and Donna.
‘Jesus Christ it’s pissing it down out there’ The man said to Donna. He was a regular, every Monday night without fail. She never knew his name, but didn’t really need to; it wasn’t him she was interested in.
‘Meant to be like this for awhile’ she said
‘Yup’ he replied nodding and when all that could be said was said on the matter of the weather, which had pretty much just been said, he turned to the table and in front of him and continued to wipe away the rain that poured from his hair to his eyes.

The Cafe was packed, the chatter of people from the tables drowned out the soft jazz music that played from a jukebox.
‘What about your mother?’ Donna asked
‘Sorry?’
‘You said it’s just you’
‘Oh, my mother left us about five years ago’
Donna could see it wasn’t really something he wanted to discuss so asked no more on the matter
Donna was always and will no doubt always be a romantic. To her, the feelings she had towards Chris, this young man she had seen sitting at his table writing away in his little leather notebook, sipping his hot chocolate or reading from a book, keeping it close to him so no one could steal it away from him and make his soft mind and thoughts return to the bitter cold reality.
Yes, this young man she has seen for weeks and months had stolen her heart in an instant. The moment she first looked into those crystal eyes of his, smiling at her with his rosy cheeks that bloomed like a perfect rose. That instant, to her was love at first sight.
This conversation now, hearing just a little fragment of his life, and having read the pages and seen the drawings she knew she had it bad for him. This was a scary thought.
‘So what was her name, the girl that you drew?’
‘Kim’ He finished off his drink
‘Met in primary school, and we kinda liked each other, or at least as much as you could when your 12’
He opened the notebook again and flicked through the pages, he stopped when he came across a picture taped to one of the pages. The picture was of the same girl, she was sitting on a bed looking at a piece of paper in her hands. Her face was sad.
‘She was 15 that day’ he gave a uncomfortable cough
‘I was 14, no money and when I found out that she was moving i thought that it would be the perfect gift to give her’

~

‘Chris’ a woman shouted
‘Yeah?’ a young boy of 14 replied
‘It’s time to go’
A second of silence, and then the young boy of 14 started to race down the steps
He wasn’t tall, and was slim. His hair blond and long.
‘What where you doing?’ The woman asked
‘Nothing’ he replied
He threw his jacket on and left the house with the woman.
The girl of 15 who had been the centre of attention today, tired and sad made her way upstairs.
She opened her bedroom door and let loose her hair, made her way to the bed and saw the envelope.
She opened it. She smiled.
The mother of the girl of 15 knocked on the door and walked in camera in hand.
There was a flash ‘One last picture’ the mother said smiling ‘That’s the last one’
The mother paused
‘you ok sweetie? ’
The girl of 15 sitting on the bed, with a sad look on her face said nothing. Then she sighed and smiled turning to the mother.
‘Yeah I’m ok’
‘What’s that?’ the mother asked as she made her way to the bed. The girl showed the mother a small bracelet, a cheap little thing but had a certain charm to it
‘From Chris’ the girl said handing it to her mother, the paper though stayed with her. She wouldn’t show this to her mother, this was the real present.
A small piece of paper with the words written ‘I love you and always will. Chris’

~

She moved the mug from her lips, not tasting any of the now warm chocolate drink.
‘The picture that you drew?’
‘Yeah, I lost the picture years ago, but could remember it’ His smile softly faded.
‘Well I could remember most of it, I forgot how she looked. I just remember her smile’
He closed the notebook and felt Donnas soft hands touch his own. They were softer than he thought they would be, warmer too.

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Chapter 5

Parking the car in front of the house she got out holding the milk and the newspaper still rolled was tucked under her arm. She looked tired and worn down. The man she loved had lost his son. The man she left her own family for, once so full of life for her and his work, now nothing more but a former shell of his existence, like the shed skin of a snake.
The cold droplets ran down the glass of the milk bottle slowly, her fingers cold to the touch, but steady they were. Making her way to the kitchen she placed the bottle of milk on the counter, the newspaper followed and finally she let the keys slip from her fingers once more into the dish that waited for them. Picking up the old blue kettle she poured water into it, and placed it on to the old stove. She retreated back to the table and lent against it facing the kettle. She started to weep.

A few minutes had passed and the kettle started to whistle its sweet tune. She wiped away the tears and started to make the coffee. she got out a couple of mugs and filled them with some ground up coffee and a little sugar in each. George made his way down the stairs, the steps creaking making a yawning sound as he did. His grey hair all shaggy and he clung onto his rope crossing it holding it tight to his chest. His naked feet made soft slapping noises as he walked along the cold stone kitchen floor. She stirred the coffee and left it to settle in the mugs, the golden bubbles resting in the centre. He sat down but only for a second before scratching his stubble and got back up placing some bread into the toaster.
‘Two slices?’ he asked her. ‘No I’m good thanks’.
He placed two in for himself and returned to his seat pulling the newspaper towards him.
‘I thought you were going to leave?’ he said whist browsing the front page, opening it he continued.
‘I saw all the bags packed, you did that fast’.
She poured the milk into the mugs and stirred furiously. ‘They’ve been packed now for a week now, i was going to leave you before but-’
‘What? The death of my son-‘ The my in his sentence had a sharpness to it ‘That made you stop and think, oh that poor bastard, I’ll stay and be the good wife, comfort him a little’

Without hesitation of thought of any kind, her hand picked up the open bottle and threw it across the room, turning to him as she did, tears streaming down her eyes. ‘I am the good wife’ her voice shaked a little at the anger that poured from the words. They were both stunned by this sudden display of anger. But she carried on. ‘I’m sorry you lost your son, I am. But I have lost a lot more than that, I have given up so much to be here now with you. With the man I loved’
His face changed from shocked to confused. ‘The man you loved?’ he threw the paper to the table and rose up. ‘You don’t love me anymore?’ ‘I’ve never loved you, not this’ she said pointing towards him. ‘Not this drunken mess, this angry bitter man’ He scoffed and turned away from her but she moved forward and continued. ‘I’m in love with the man that is kind, that kind sweet man that had so much passion and lust in him’. Then nothing, nothing but the sniffling sound she made as she wiped away the tears. He too started to weep.

‘Where has he gone?’ she said softer now ‘Where is that man, that is loved and loving? The man that would write poetry pure to the soul. That smiled and joked.’ He started to fold over the chair. ‘The man that loved to play’
His body fell to the floor and he sat there, his face buried in his hands. His words almost unattainable as he cried. He cried for his son, he cried for his marriage, he cried for his work and he cried a hateful cry towards himself. Oh how he hated what he had become. She was right; he’s not the man he used to be. Her voice became even softer and she crouched beside him. ‘I’m leaving tomorrow, i need some time alone, I think we both do’

Her hand rested on his shoulder and her head touched his. He turned and kissed her hand ‘I’m sorry’ he said. Those words she had been waiting to hear come from those lips for so long. She was shocked by this but didn’t let it show. But she realised she had broke him, he was here on the floor shaking. Maybe this was the turning point, this is where he will change. She didn’t want to leave him, but she couldn’t stand there anymore watching him drink is life away, but she was going to leave him, and she knew it was cruel.

~

Chris was wearing a bright blue work shirt, and smart black pants finished off with black work shoes. He was kneeling down with a pad in one hand pen in his mouth and with his free hand he was pulling stock forward. In his head counting, he wrote down the stock and the number in his head and continued to do so throughout the store. Customers would come to him asking for advice or direction to the item they want. If they didn’t come to him he went them, with those pretentious smiles on his face, and sweetness in his voice that made him sick inside. He hated people coming to him when he was shopping and he hated this even more, being one of those people.

Co-workers talking, amongst themselves, working when needed. He always thought that the store he worked in had a hurried feel to it, he could never really describe how, but the colour of the walls, a pale peach slightly dirty from dust and years, the floor worn the low lights that hung down, no natural light at all. The store would always be warm, have a sticky atmosphere to it, and in summer would make everybody sweat a bitter stench that would hang in the air for hours, no air conditioning to fight it away. Also at the back of the store was a small lift making it easier to bring stock out into the store.
Pushing the ‘Down’ button an echoing noise shook the thin metal door and softly retreated. As with the lift he made his way downstairs, the stairs old wooden things that creaked with every step. He made his way into the storeroom, a large open room, concrete walls and flooring. It was cool down here, cool and refreshing. A clash and shudder as the lift stopped, the mechanical hissing noise that he was able to hear also stopped.
Checking through the pages on his notebook he pulled the stock that was needed and returned to lift to the shop floor, once more following suit, up the old dusty stairwell.

Routine can be a great thing. Routine is how some people like to live, allows them to stay in control, feel god like in there ordinary days. They wake up at a time they desire, they eat when and what they want to eat and have always eaten. The wear there clothes, colours and styles matching there personality, smartly cursing through the day in a constant routine, start work, have coffee break with their work college (likable as a person, but not known enough to call a friend) talking the same old crap, back stabbing, joking, comforting or confronting. The routine continues they work, then dinner discussing the same discussions agreeing in the right places. Get home, eat, relax, sleep and start the same old routine again the next day. Chris was not one of these people, and for this his job was draining every bit of lust for life.
The shop had closed and he made his way to the coffee shop, the notebook would hopefully be there waiting for him behind the counter, but more so than that he hoped Donna would be there too.

The notebook was his escape from routine full of thoughts and ideas, wishes and memories, the book was a full of papers torn, worn and loose. There where plain pages mixed in with drawings and sketches of people, his friends smiling. There where pictures of people, likely strangers sitting reading books, newspaper, drinking coffee and smoking.

The pages stitched into the notepad where littered with words running along the lines, these words formed sentences and these sentences formed paragraphs. Some pages had lists, others held fragments of ramblings that would have oozed through his mind sipping his coffee. Words crossed out, words circled. Some pages had poems of no real meaning, other poems talked about love, war pain and others where humorous. To him this wasn’t just a notebook; it was his soul displaying his sanity and his emotions.

The rain was light and the wind lighter, the pace in which he walked faster than usual his hair bouncing as did the bag he had hanging from his shoulder. The streets where busy, and although the night sky had not completely taken over the streetlamps displayed there colours to the world. The rushing sound of cars and the splashing sound of the small puddles that were shaken from there slumber, the chatter as people walked by was a minuscule sound as he wore his headphones, listening to the music, fast and loud this was the fuel that drove him to walk the speed he was.

That thing he hated so much had crept up on him again as he thought to himself ‘Mondays, she always works Mondays’. He pulled down the head phones and let them rest round his neck and opened the door, he was facing the counter stepping in the bell pronounced his entrance, and she turned to him. He smiled making his way to the counter, she smiled pulling back some of her hair, leaning on the counter. ‘So the usual?’ she asked
He slapped the counter in tune with his fingers (just something he does) ‘You bet’. Money was exchanged and she started to turn reaching out for a mug. ‘Oh, and one other thing, there isn’t a notebook behind the counter by any chance?’
‘Notebook?’ turning back to face in.
‘Yeah I left my notebook here on Friday by mistake, completely forgot to pick it up’
She smiled that ever so sexy smile again, the one where her tongue pokes out between her teeth just enough for her to look innocent.
‘Brown leather?’
‘Yup yup’ he said the excitement in his eyes gleaming like a star that’s just been born.
‘Sure, I’ll bring it you with your drink’ With that she returned to her job, reaching for the mug and he made his way to the small table he always sits (routine creeps up on you all the time).

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Chapter 4

Hours had past, the rain had settled into a light drizzle, drifting softly with the aid of the breeze. The bus he was sat on, empty. With his headphones on he awoke from his little slumber, the sky was breath taking. Colours of greys and blacks, mixed with patches of clear blue skies and the heavenly light spilling through the dark heavy clouds. He couldn’t help but feel warmed and moved by the vision, taking in a deep breath. Rested and relaxed, he scanned the empty bus thoughts going through his head, just simple things really, events of the day conversations between himself and Dave. He was rejoicing in the fact that he still had one more day to relax before going back to work. And the girl, Donna. He’d always look at her when he was in the cafe he couldn’t not, she was sexy. It wasn’t just her looks, but the way she carried herself, the way she moved around the room moved from table to table with such grace smiling so calm, so warm and so innocent. He would always smile at her, but nothing more. A small nudge on his shoulder as a passenger walked past him, sitting herself behind him. For a second he was confused but returned to earth from staring into that ever so simple space. His stop was just a few minutes away, he jumped from his slouched position and sat up straight, scratching his face and licking his lips. Looking round the bus again, passengers where scattered around.
Jesus how long was i zoned out? He thought to himself.

Ringing the bell, and placing the bag around his shoulder he walked down and off the bus. He loved the fact that his house was so close to the bus stop. (Though who wouldn’t, i mean it’s just convenient right?). Crossing the road he opened the small rusted gate and walked to his door, pulling the keys from his pocket, spinning them, the gate crashing shut behind him.It wasn’t until he was rested on the sofa, with a book in his hands that he realised. ‘Shit’ he said rolling his eyes and letting his head slump forward into the book. ‘Shit! The Notebook’, he had forgotten to ask for the notebook. The cafe was closed on Sundays, so there was no chance of getting it until Monday afternoon. ‘Jesus Christ, you really are a dumbass sometimes’ he said laughing folding the corner of the page and throwing the book onto the coffee table. He picked up the cup of tea and finished it off.

After reading the book for several more hours the door opened, there was a small thump sound, as his house mate dropped his bag onto the floor beside the door, stretching and sighing as he did so. He made his way into the main room and let out another sigh as he let his body fall onto the sofa, sitting beside Chris. ‘How do?’ Chris said resting the book open on his chest. ‘Good man, good’. Simon was taller than Chris, and his physic a little more masculine, his hair long and black tide into a ponytail, a look that suited him. He rested his feet on the coffee table ‘So how’d it go with the ice queen?’ Simon asked scratching his beard. ‘She really wanted to tear me a new one ’.They both smiled at each other ‘Well I hope to hell you tore her one too?’ Chris throwing the book onto the coffee table, sitting up replied with a little too much enthusiasm ‘Hell yeah’ Simon laughed slapping Chris’s leg. ‘Come on, I’ll get a few pints in and you can tell me all about it, I could do with a laugh’

~

Sunday night, a man and women were shouting arguing with aggressive flare. Rain falling hard upon the window screen, droplets dancing off while others simply, and gracefully ran down leaving streaks that where illuminated by the streets lamps. A flourish only to be cut off by the finale of the wipers, erasing all on the glass, as to start fresh, the glass the canvas for this display of movement.
As quick as it started, the arguing stopped. The woman driving and her knuckles white has she held the wheel. Her husband now slumped in the seat, drunk, as always. The suit he wore, black and his shirt was half open exposing the hairs on his chest; some had a colour of brown the rest grey. His tie limp, loose around his neck. His hair was medium length, grey and started to dance wildly as he open the window slightly. ‘No way in hell you’re smoking in this car’ she said to him sharply as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, her face always facing to the road ahead. There was no sound from him, not even a sigh he just simply placed the pack back into his jacket pocket and closed the window.

The drive was long and it started to show, her eyes getting heavy and her posture softened, she slouched. The dress she wore was black and she wore a thin white belt, her hair at the party was tied up, and the pearl necklace she wore, from the waist up she was a spitting image of Audrey Hepburn, though she was a lot shorter. Now though her hair was loose and long, hanging over her shoulders, her long fringe brushing a cheek as the warm air wheezed through the vents. She drove on some more. There were no words spoken between them. There was no need. At the traffic lights he placed his hand softly on her leg, and patted it even softer. She turned to him; he was smiling a sorry-full smile. The red light caught his hand, shaking ever so slightly. She rested her hand on his and smiled back to him. There were no words spoken, they weren’t needed. A soft amber light coloured their hands, then green. She moved her hand and he moved his, she drove on. It was a long drive and not a single word was spoken, they weren’t needed.

At the house the man washed the drowsiness from his face, with some cold water. The woman followed walking into the kitchen and let her keys slip out of her hand into a bowl on the table. The kitchen was quite large, well kept. The cupboards had simple white doors on them, the handles where round wooden knobs the colour of them oak, matching the wooden counters and benches. There was a small fireplace built into the walls above one of the cupboards, this was lined with white and brown tiles, these tiles created a border around the rest of the room. The woman took two glasses from the side of the sink and give them a quick wipe with a tea towel, she then handed it to the man, he wiped his face dry and as he did so, let the woman pour some cold water into the glasses. Placing them on to the kitchen table she sat down, he turned the tap off and sat down beside her. They raised the glasses and began to drink. They hadn’t spoken, there wasn’t any need.

It was late morning, and the woman drove down to long driveway that led from the large farm house. She drove from it into the local village. She was dressed in jeans and a black fleece her hair drifted back as the cold breeze blew. Opening the door to the shop she greeted the owner, an old man of sixty or so ‘Morning Howard’. Howard in turn nodded a gentile nod towards her. ‘Morning Carol’ She made her way to the back of the shop and grabbed some milk. Making her way back to the counter Howards voice called out to her ‘How’s George doing, not seen him for a few days now?’ She placed the milk on the counter, and Howard placed a rolled up newspaper beside it. ‘He’s fine’ she said giving money. ‘He just needs some time; it’s hard for a parent having to bury their own child’ Howard spoke no words as he handed her change, he didn’t need to his eyes said it all.
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Chapter 3

Have you ever experienced those uncomfortable silences, well I’m guessing so, one of those moments where not a single person talks or makes any noise, except maybe the gulping sound of the hot chocolate. The sound is what it always was, but now in this situation it is multiplied. Like walking through the hallway at night tip toeing trying not to make a noise only creating louder creaks than what you would have done. This uncomfortable silence was correct in name, their eyes meeting each other for a brief second before turning away. ‘Sounded pretty bad’ Donna spoke, breaking the silence. He lent back on his seat, adjusting his buttocks giving a slight clench when she spoke those words. ‘A little, but we weren’t really serious to be honest I don’t know why I agreed to go out with her ’. Her eyes fixed on his hand reaching for the mug. ‘Loneliness I guess’ he gave a little sigh and moved his body towards the table leaning into the slightly raised mug.

‘What about you?’ She placed the book down onto the table and took a quick sip of her drink. ‘What about me?’ she replied ‘Have you ever felt so lonely that you decided to date someone? Just to have that feeling of warmth, understanding?’ She gently shook her head, smiling. ‘I’ve only every dated one person. Lasted three years, and the reason why I dated him was because I was madly in love with him’. There was sharpness to her voice as she said it and a slight sadness in her eyes.
The sound of shuffling chairs behind them broke the convocation. The heavy footsteps on the old wooden floor echoed in the almost empty cafe. The old couple the young woman and her son walked past the old man smiling at Donna, turning to Chris giving a nod then throwing a few coins into the tip’s jar. The cafe was now empty. ‘Sorry just gotta’ she said pointing at the tables. ‘Yeah no worries’ he gave a smile.

She was tidying the tables the pots clashing as she put them into the sink. She saw Natalie’s cup of coffee on the counter that was left there by Chris. ‘Still’ she said pouring the coffee away into a second smaller sink. ‘Was kinda harsh what you said’ her back turned to him she didn’t turn round to see the reaction on his face, or see how his body reacts. Twitching fingers or maybe his back getting stiffer, he didn’t reply or try to correct her, simply gave a small nod which of course she didn’t see. ‘She did say some nasty things to you I suppose’ Clashing pots and water splashing as she rinsed the cups and place them down to dry. ‘No not really’ he took the last mouth full of hot chocolate just a small black puddle on the bottom. He stood up and handed the cup to her over the counter, resting his crossed arms on it. ‘I mean I am dull’ he said burying his chin in the gap of his crossed arms. His voice a little muffled ‘but I really don’t mind it. Sure I bitch about it from time to time when I see people living the life to the fullest’ He gave a slight laugh and stood up looking outside at the rain hitting the windows. ‘But that’s life rite?’ He hadn’t noticed that she hadn’t replied to his question. Nor that she was watching him, watching the rain. She had a soft smile on her soft pale face. She had rosy red cheeks and brown eyes. Her face, cheeks and lips where quite full. She wasn’t tall in fact she was quite short and although slim her thighs and legs where a little bigger. Pear shape is the expression. She turned back round to wash the last few dishes pulling the plug and drying her hands watching the water as it slips away down the drain.

‘Well-’ Chris said pulling the headphones from the bag that was now wrapped around him, resting from the shoulder. ‘I’m gunna get going’ he gave a sympathetic smile ‘It’s not often I get Saturdays off, especially when I still have some money to spend’ placing the headphones over his neck he gave another smile and tapped the counter ‘So I guess I’ll see you next time’.
‘Yeah till next time’ she replied in the same soft voice as his.
Chris had always been a fast walker, weaving through the crowds of Saturday shoppers. He was planning on going home after meeting up with the ice queen, but decided to take a short detour to the video store. The store his friend work and his friend’s father owned. It was one of those small shops on one of the hidden backstreets, away from the window shoppers, and known to those who really wanted to buy. The rain had stopped, a nice cool breeze swept through the street, creating ripples in the puddles. ‘Chris man, how you doing?’ There was always a warm welcome, something which he loved. ‘John, Jesus man I envy you so much!’ John was behind the counter drinking what was likely his fifth cup of tea today. ‘So you buying or just chilling out for a bit?’ ‘Well you’re in luck’ Chris said as he closed the counter hatch behind him, sitting on a very low but soft couch. ‘I was thinking I might do a bit of both ’.
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Chapter Two [Edit]

Morning, a start to a new day. A new day which has already gotten off to a bad start? Chris woke up with his eyes fixed on the clock on his bedside table. They grew wider, but it took a few more seconds for it to reach his brain and let his body react. ‘Shit’ he cried out pulling the cover from the bed exposing his naked body to the cold air. There were a few mumblings of other words, mainly beginning with ‘F’ that were strung together to form sentences. “Why the hell” He threw a t-shirt on and a pair of jeans rushing around trying to find a clean pair of socks, ‘’God damn alarm didn’t hear it go off’’. The words continued to form sentences that best not be repeated.

Opening his front door he stepped out into the front garden, patting his jeans pockets making sure he had what he needed keys, wallet, phone and odd bits of change. Slamming the door behind him he threw his bag onto his shoulder and looked at his watch, there should be a bus due any second. Walking down the narrow path in the narrow weed ridden garden he opened the old gate, it squeaking as he did so and then clashing, shaking a little as he shut it. The bus stop was just at the corner of the street, four houses from his and he saw that people where at the bus stop a good sign that he won’t miss this one, like he did with the other two last night, which was also a good thing he thought because it meant he had the right change for the bus. It’s an odd thing, but he likes to have the right change. When people get on to pay everyone else in the bus is looking at them, and if there at the front for more than 5 seconds you can feel that cold look that emits from everyone. People who don’t have the right change slow things down. This will not do, and they will be punished! Usually the people in the bus would quickly re-organise their seating positions whilst the driver takes his time in returning the change (he’s in the act too). Everyone seated in their new positions and the person now moving, looking for a seat. The only seat, the only seat next to the old man with stains on his cloths and teeth (well those that are left). Giving of an odour of cigarettes and urine, the bus driver smiling satisfied that though he is now a minute late, the person truly responsible will pay for the rest of the long, slow uncomfortable journey. This is why correct change is needed, one of those unwritten rules of life. There are others, but they will come out in time I’m sure.

''Who the hell wants to go to town this early on a Saturday’’? He mumbled to himself pulling out the change from his pocket. Most Saturdays he would have to, earlier in fact for work. It had been awhile since he got a full weekend off work and was looking forward to sleeping and eating junk food. The sound of the doors opening always amused him. Like a piston sound, as a kid he always pretended that the doors where the entrance to a futuristic space fighter. Far from the real thing, an old metal can that’s running of gas. Coughing and squeaking smelling of a mix of horrid smells to create a super stench must have had one hell of an imagination as a kid to block all that out.

On the bus he folded his bus ticket into a thin strip and started flicking it between his fingers, allowing his mind to wander. He really wasn’t looking forward to this. He had a horrid feeling what was going to happen. He’s been in a relationship for a few months, well almost. They started off quite sweet but soon turned bitter. She was attractive, but personality wise is where the problem lay. She was just scary loud, aggressive and kind of dumb. Not what he usually goes for, which truth be told hasn’t been a huge number.

He got word yesterday off one of her equally scary friends that she was thinking of breaking up with him, didn’t really bother him to much. Just annoyed him she wanted to meet at the cafe where he always goes. His expression suddenly turned from being quite gloomy to optimistic.

Eyebrows rose and eyes open biting his bottom lip; bus ticket still flickered between fingers. He remembered about his notebook. Not all bad, he thought, one less journey. He pulled out some big headphones out of his bag, the sort of headphones that DJs use, giant things that seem to swallow up the ears. Fiddling around in the bag with his left hand trying to find his music player, punching the play button, he sat with the bag besides him and lent back on the chair raising his knees and pushing them against the seat in front of him. Not all bad, he thought once more, his eyes shut and the bus gently rocking moved along the roads through the streets and alike.

The coffee shop wasn’t really busy, not usually is at this time of day. Just a few souls spread across the thin long room. The waitress sat besides one of the smaller tables with a hot chocolate and a toasted sandwich in front of her. The uniform she wore was a simple thing really. Black pants and a brown shirt. On one side of the shirt was the cafes logo and the other displayed a small badge ‘Donna’. The door opened and a young woman walked to the counter, she was there maybe a few seconds before coughing. ‘’Excuse me’’ she said in a bitter manner. Her eyes burning a hole into Donna, who seemed to be deep in thought. ‘’Oh sorry, what is it you would like?’’ she pleasantly replied placing the book onto the table. She started to make her way behind the counter looking at the young lady ‘’I always find myself getting lost in a book, everything else is a blur’’ she said with a smile on her face.

The young lady tightened her lips and rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t really read’ Donna nodded ‘large coffee’ she said throwing a crumpled up note onto the counter. Donna just nodded taking the note. The cash draw opened with the sound of loose change clashing. As Donna was counting the change a voice from the doorway spoke to the boorish young woman, ’Hey Natalie, how yah doin?’ The till draw closed and Donna held out the change waiting for Natalie to take it. In an extremely loud and sarcastic manner she placed one hand on her cheek and held her mouth wide open, she posed for a second. ‘My god you’re on time!’ Chris just sighed and moved to the counter looking at Natalie with a look of disgust and boredom. ‘Sit down, I’ll be right over’. They looked at each other with sheer poison. She grabbed the change from Donnas’ hand that was still held out and she stormed off to the far end table. Chris waited until her distance was far enough to allow him to whisper to the Donna. ‘Sorry about that’ he said with a soft smile. She replied with the same soft smile and whispered voice ‘It’s ok’. Their eyes met for a second a meeting that neither of them felt uncomfortable with. Then she leant back slapping the counter with her hands making a little beat ‘So, same as always?’ He laughed and nodded. The money was exchanged ‘Bring them to you in a moment’ Donna said. He made his way towards the table taking the head phones from around his neck and placing them into the bag, then placing the bag onto the floor beside the table.

Donna could just see them from where she was, and though she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help but watch them as it was apparent that they were arguing. She scoffed (not realising that (1) she had done so and (2) it was quite loud). An argument is when one person says something and the second person with return a response. Basically a discussion with the volume setting raised a little higher. If that is what an argument is, then this clearly was not. Natalie seemed to be saying enough for both of them. Chris just sat there nodding. Natalie’s voice started to rise and her movement was getting agitated, hands swaying left and right. Donna couldn’t hear much from the counter, just the odd emphasised word. ‘You’re a dull shit’. ‘Always working, always reading, and writing your dumb fucking stories’ Donna picked up both mugs and started her way to the table. She saw Natalie stand up and lean towards Chris shouting into his face ‘Don’t you care?’

Donna placed the mugs onto the table and quickly walked away, sitting down on a table and placing the book in front of her face, trying not to make eye contact with the devil woman.
‘I really don’t’ Chris said. Her Face white and her jaw dropped. ‘You’re a horrible person; I don’t care if I’m boring that’s just me.’ She grabbed her coat from the back of the seat and wrestled with it putting it on. ‘Hell I like being boring. I like waking up in the morning with a clear head. Unlike you waking up every morning with another guy in your bed, I’m Boring, you’re a whore!’ this made Natalie Shriek and storm off. It made Donna blush; she was fighting back a little laugh. She kept it down and stirred into the pages and Natalie stormed past slamming the door behind her.

There was an awkward silence then he got out of the chair and walked at the end of the room where an old couple sat on one table and across from them sat a mother and her young son, seven years or so. Donna Watched with his back to her. He then apologised for the display of language that the young lady and himself had displayed. His apology was greatly accepted by all and he walked back to his table, the old couple saying how wonderful it was that some young men still have manners. He made a small joke that Donna couldn’t quite hear and the couple laughed.

Making his way back to his table he looked towards Donna and mouthed his apology, she simply nodded and smiled. But her smile dispersed when she saw the confused look on his face. He picked up both drinks from the table placing the coffee Natalie had ordered onto the counter, and carrying his own onto the same table as Donna. Sat across from her she lowered the book, to see that he was smiling. ‘I’ve read that book, like a hundred times’ he said pointing to the book. ‘Good isn’t it?’ smile still on his face.
‘I only bought it because the title caught my eye’ (The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse). He gave a huge roar of laughter, ‘yeah same here’. He took a sip of his hot chocolate but keeping his eyes on hers. She didn’t say anything. He placed the mug down.

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