Mr. In-Between
“He examined it minutely, holding it millimetres from his face as if to demonstrate his myopia. Jon could hear his laboured breathing, all the pies and chips and curry sauce hanging heavy on his slow-beating heart.
‘Keep the change,’ Jon suggested.
He smelled of police stations, a vague, institutional odour of polyester armpits, filing cabinets and tepid coffee. He itched. The taxi pulled away, the driver throwing him one last glance as he performed an illegal U-turn.
As he approach...ed his front door, spinning a single key on a ring around his index finger, he heard the sharp beeping of a familiar horn. He turned, pocketing the key. Across the road he saw Phil, impassive at the wheel of the racing green Aston. He wore a pair of gold-rimmed aviator shades and a subdued chauffeur’s outfit: dark suit, leather gloves. He slid across the front seat, and pointedly opened the passenger-side door.
Jon dodged traffic.MoreLess
‘Keep the change,’ Jon suggested.
He smelled of police stations, a vague, institutional odour of polyester armpits, filing cabinets and tepid coffee. He itched. The taxi pulled away, the driver throwing him one last glance as he performed an illegal U-turn.
As he approach...ed his front door, spinning a single key on a ring around his index finger, he heard the sharp beeping of a familiar horn. He turned, pocketing the key. Across the road he saw Phil, impassive at the wheel of the racing green Aston. He wore a pair of gold-rimmed aviator shades and a subdued chauffeur’s outfit: dark suit, leather gloves. He slid across the front seat, and pointedly opened the passenger-side door.
Jon dodged traffic.MoreLess
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