Bit of silly non-fiction for this week’s Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge: Snapshot. Take a moment in your week and, instead of taking a picture, write something instead…
Stuck at Stevenson Square
I’m stuck behind them as I reach Stevenson Square. Initially huddled close together, they’ve extended their territory and are now taking up almost the entire pavement.
I’m stuck behind them as I reach Stevenson Square, with its weird mix of old, red-brick buildings and eighties pebble-dashing, its chewing gum and chip cartons. I’m wondering how the hell anyone ever thought pebble dashing looked good parked next to beautiful old red brick, and I’m wondering how I’m going to get round these two less than a week after toe surgery.
I’m stuck behind them as I reach Stevenson Square because they’re going just fast enough to out-gun me and my limp and just slow enough to be stuck right in front. Towing a small pull-along suitcase each and slowing occasionally to check their phones, they’re probably more of a threat to my toe than a short burst of speed.
I’m stuck behind them as I reach Stevenson Square, trapped in their angry bubble of Oh my God you are joooooking me? Nah mate honestly some people just need a smack in the head don’t they? until I’m fully agreeing and wondering if I could take two of them, mangled toe be damned.
I’m stuck behind them as I reach Stevenson Square, and I’m late for my meeting two streets away and I burst out laughing because it’s just so ridiculous and they turn to look at me like Oh my God mate she is nuts.
I’m stuck behind them as I reach Stevenson Square, and I can’t quite stand it any more. I decide I’ll take the ache in my toe and the tiny gap between wheelie bin and lamp-post up ahead over being stuck behind them any longer.
I’m stuck behind them as I reach Stevenson Square, until I gallop clumsily from behind them, leaving them there, clipping along in their heels, not giving a shit, mate, and thinking I’m nuts.