The bench, old and worn, was cold to the touch through the wool of my trousers
Hi
I could see a line of grime etched into the lines beneath her face as she looked up from her can and threw the shortest of dirty looks expertly mingled with a sound mixture of disinterested distain
Sometimes no doesn’t have to be put Into words or perhaps a look is the strongest no
Still and all it’s not a bad day all things considered
The look again this time I noticed a bunch of her hair stuck together with blood or sweat or vomit or whatever sticks hair together when a member of the human fraternity doesn’t get to avail of the washing facilities of a day or even a month
You can go fuck of if you think you getting something out of me I’m no hooker
I’m no punter either
Good cos I’m particular about who I be having the fun with
Me too
Yeah right
Yeah right exactly
Don’t be getting fucking smart you fucker
I just saying I not into hookers
You should be
Ah here
Well the state of you with the head on you and that Gammy eye and you look like your mother picked out the clothes. Is that wool?
Feck sake you’re worst than a commentator on one of them shows
What shows
You know the xfactor bollixology
Here listen don’t be using that kind of language in front of a Lady
Fair enough
And a slow breeze trailed across our path while we both looked on at the city passing by. a quietness in the kaleidoscope of hustle
You know no one talks as they walk
I looked up and listened and watched
Your man over there is talking on his phone
I thought I told you not to be a wise fucker
You only mentioned being a smart one
Whatever. He is on a phone that don’t count
Why not
It just doesn’t
Why
Cos it’s like the mad cunts who talk to themselves it’s not real talking it’s just pretend chitter chatter
I see what you mean
About the phone
No about them not talking they just are all rushing
Yeah
Yeah
Have you a light
Have you a fag
Yeah
Right then
And I saw her eyes were brown when she held the flame
She would have been a beautiful daughter to some Da a long time ago
She held the smoke deep inside, feeling it’s warmth before slowly releasing it back into the world
I better make a move
She nodded and looked back down
I touched her shoulder gently when i stood, the briefest of contacts; she didn’t react, maybe she hadn’t noticed
I walked on with out a word been uttered to a soul, a member once more of the rushing throngs
(C) frankie mcgivney
Just a random story of top of my head I hope it reads okay. The words I love to write
Words I love to write 