Photo ©copyright, 2002. Frantisek Staud
Read Part I
Lunchtime, Mark thought happily snapping his bag shut. “See you in an hour,” he trilled to no one in particular.
Summer was Mark’s favourite time of year. Each day he left for lunch fifteen minutes later until he reached the witching hour of one thirty, when he would start at twelve again. In this way he was ensured a slightly different crowd each day.
He stopped off at Mama Brown’s to pick up his sandwich and from there he would positively skip to the little park behind the church where he would meet his flock. There he would unfurl his sarong and worship at the altar of the Sun and Good Looks God.
While he ate he cast an alert eye over the good and the bad taking extra care to turn his nose up just as the bad were looking. By the time he carefully folded away his sandwich wrapping he had already decided which direction he would lie in order to appreciate the art.
Today Art was directly opposite him; a little on the skinny side, but tall. Now what was Art reading? And why on earth was his phone ringing? Never mind, he took the call as a chance to stare a little more overtly over at Art. Periodically he cast his glance elsewhere, whereas Art was now staring across intensely, his stare punctuated by odd glances at the leather bound book he was reading. By the end of the phone call a strange thought crossed Mark’s mind. He had the impression that Art was not overcome by lust, but a strong desire to kill him.
Mark put his phone away and stared at the sky, every now and again turning his head to fish elsewhere. Then Art stood up. Mark watched him slip on his sensible black shoes, shrug on his charcoal grey shirt and finally affixing the white collar. Mark fought to repress a deep guffaw.
Labels: Expressions from Kafe k, short fiction
