Scrape: Chapter Three, Part One

The clouds moved across the sky, the sunlight shot through her early morning window.  Her eyes sprung open; a brand new day. She bounced out of bed, stood naked in front of the window, took a deep life saving breath and said out loud, “Hello London. I am here and we are going to be friends!”

As she turned, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and paused for a moment; she liked what she saw.

She showered, she dressed.  Louise was back.  London; look out! It’s gonna be a good day.

***************************************************************

John Edward Reynolds, stared at his bedroom ceiling thinking about nothing in particular as Louise was arriving in the office. He gathered his dressing gown around him as the lift doors closed.  He stared in his bedroom mirror as Louise checked her look in the reflective interior of the lift.  He left the bedroom; she left the lift.

He was in a morning daze, she was keen to get her day started. He shuffled to the bathroom; she rushed to her desk.  He was repeating a process he had been through 1000 times; she was still learning her way.  Both got a surprise: and the surprise was blonde.

John, toothbrush in mouth, turned, saw his suit jacket hanging on the back of the bathroom door.  He had not hung it there.  Like a neon sign on an Indian restaurant, a blonde hair flashed bright on his suit.  His wife was brunette.  Jenny was blonde.  John like blondes and it was Jenny’s blonde hair shining bright in a sea of grey that drew him to introduce himself to her.  He saw it, how could it be missed.  Had his wife seen it?

Louise was first in – or so she thought.  She scanned the sea of desks and all were empty.  It was only once she had passed three of them that a blonde head appeared in the distance just above the edge of Sam’s desk.  In a split second seven thoughts went through her head. Was Sam in early – not too likely, why was she kneeling, what was on the floor, why was there a screwdriver on the desk? Sam’s hair is not like that; the shoulders are wrong. At that point, as the blonde head turned, she noticed three more things: he had stubble, he was not pleased to see her, and he seemed to be in a hurry.

‘Good morning’ she said brightly.

‘M’ning’ He mumbled as he grabbed the screwdriver and made off for the far exit.

Grumpy morning maintenance man thought Louise, and made for her desk.

Breakfast was as perfunctory as the kiss on his wife’s cheek, as John, now dressed and ready, left for work.

John sat on the tube thinking about the past and what he had done.

Louise sat at her desk thinking about her future and what she would do.

He shook himself out of his anxiety and looked for pleasant thoughts.

She focused herself on the work she had to do for that loathsome oaf.

At that point, they both thought about each other.

************************

As the morning turned to afternoon, Billy washed, didn’t shave, put on some cleaner dirty jeans and found a washed but un-ironed tee-shirt.  He had work to do and a minicab to drive.  At 12.35, he clicked his seatbelt, put his trusty Nikon on the floor in front of the passenger seat and set off to see what the day would give him.

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About reneewilkins

I am a twenty-something Londoner who enjoys writing. As well as writing, I enjoy all the usual and unusual things people my age (and those older and younger) enjoy.

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