Sunday, 27 May 2012

Exaggeration: Part II Edited

She sat on a bench facing the bank, her back to the gated up entrance of a shopping centre. The metal felt cold against her calf muscles, she adjusted her dress and watched people as they took out their money. It was getting late. Everywhere would be shut soon and she could head to the bar. She liked to wait here, watching everyone go about their daily routine, pressing her feet into her shoes and her shoes into the ground, anchoring herself to the town she thought she’d never want to leave.

Betty was a square, a real drag.

Surrounded by friends, he saw her, ignored her. She walked to the bar with intention, she bought his favourite drink. ‘Would you like ice?’ She considered this for a moment and decided that yes, she would, as it would give this drink the kick it required. This drink wasn’t for drinking. Her deliberate, predetermined scenario played over and over in her mind as she watched the bar man pour this drink, his drink. She strolled over to him, holding the drink, she smiled and within seconds, shards of glass and trickling pools of blood covered the table, the glass had dropped to the floor after being forcefully smashed into his face, someone was screaming.

He fumbled for his wallet; I stared at him from across the table. He looked up, looked down, shrugged, raised one hand to his head, cradled his face and then shrugged again and stared back at me. He stood up in front of everyone in the restaurant and patted his pockets. He returned to his seat and avoiding eye contact with me, he grunted. I gave in and asked him what the matter was. To which he replied, ‘can you get this’? I obliged, unaware that this was going to be one of several pocket patting predicaments. He stared at me, our plates cleared of food, bottles empty. I blew him a kiss.

That was some throw. She pivoted on her heels and left, hid down an alley next to the church, for a couple of minutes or so, trying to catch her breath, attempting to reconstruct her actions, to figure out if it was real or not. Her body pulsated, her heart pounded in her chest, she wiped a thin trail of sweat from across her brow and returned to the bench facing the bank.