I rested my hands on either side of the steering wheel, stopping my fingers from straying near the horn. Sky Alton Writer, Gryffindor 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. ‘Hurry up’ ‘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. “Finally!” “Calm down,” he grimaced, flopping into the seat beside me. I shoved the key in the ignition. “Belt.” 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.”
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AuthorPoetry 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. Archives
June 2018
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