I rested my hands on either side of the steering wheel, stopping my fingers from straying near the horn.
I rested my hands on either side of the steering wheel, stopping my fingers from straying near the horn. My phone buzzed. I glanced at it.
‘Out in 5 minutes’
Great. He’d said ‘out in 10’ over half an hour ago (and included a moronic string of emojis it had probably taken him at least 6 minutes to put together). I itched to write back that he could hitch hike to the wedding for all I cared.
A cat wandered along the road beside the car, gave me a disdainful look and hopped up onto a fence. In desperation, I grabbed my phone.
‘Coming…’ flashed up a second later.
‘Your neighbour’s cat is judging me’
‘His name is Boris. He likes to fish in next door’s carp pond.’
‘Great, now we can have a conversation’. I put my phone down before I was tempted to chuck it in the direction of his living room window. Only my brother would find the time to tell me the life history of a snooty ginger fuzzball when we were meant to be on the road 45 minutes ago.
Eventually, Tim sauntered down the path and chucked a bag into the back. It was a very small bag for the time it had evidently taken to pack.
“Calm down,” he grimaced, flopping into the seat beside me.
I shoved the key in the ignition.
He considered for a moment, then dragged it across.
“What’s the rush anyway? You want to go even less than I do. You hate Delia.” He pondered for a second, “You’re not too hot on weddings either. You said Uncle Joe’s was excruciating.”
“We promised mum,” I grimaced, pulling out. Boris was giving me the evil eyes through the back window. Tim yawned expansively.
“When are we stopping for breakfast?”
“One more word and I promise I’ll make you walk.”
Leave a Reply.
Poetry poetry poetry! This is where submissions get a bit more creative than most, and it's a wonder how many HOLers (particularly the eagles) are filled with fabulous artsyness.