Like Ships That Pass In The Night Part 2

Hello again

Right, so, last week I blogged a piece of flash fiction that was inspired by a train journey (if your looking, it's a couple of posts down) and intially I thought that was the end of it. But then a couple of people seemed to like it (yeah I know, it surprised me as well) and wanted to know more about the characters. So I got to thinking 'maybe this could be more than one little piece.'

I know. I really should stop thinking. I can normally go for days without doing any. I mean I even try to not think because it makes my poor old little brain hurt.

So, I've written another part of it and now, here, for your enjoyment is part 2. I decided as well that I might try and use these pieces as a way of improving my descriptive narrative. One thing that I'm fairly good at is the dialogue side of a story but the descriptions are, well, sometimes not so good.

But anyway, have a look and see what you think. Comments are welcome. Oh, and it's a first draft so, once again, is probably some way short of perfect.

Like Ships That Pass In the Night

Part 2

“Ticket”

He walks towards the station, sheltering underneath the black umbrella as the rain hammers down into the street. The light from the street lamps reflects on the wet surface casting the early morning gloom in a warm yellow glow. He steps carefully around a large puddle in the middle of the pavement. He can’t get too wet as there is an important meeting today but he briefly remembers back to a time when he would have gladly jumped into it with both feet. He carries on past the row of taxis with their glowing neon light atop their hard black shell, each one patiently waiting for its turn at the front of the queue to be next to pick up a passenger and take them on their journey to wherever. The drivers, who would normally be standing together, are huddled in the warm and dry of their vehicles and carrying on conversations through windows or studying the racing guide.

He passes the newsagents just inside the entrance to the station and checks his watch. He always tries to give himself time to buy his own morning paper to read on the train. The umbrella is folded down and given a quick shake before being fastened shut. He goes in the newsagents and buys the paper, handing over the exact money. He always has the exact money for the paper. He steps back out into the main area of the station seeing people hurrying to and from the various platforms. Some are running in suits and skirts while others take a more measured pace in jeans and trainers, but all with a quiet determination to get to their destination. He joins the queue at the self service ticket machine, waiting patiently as the other commuters buy their passage. Eventually it is his turn and touches the icons for his options on the screen before inserting the ten pound note into the appropriate slot. He hears the whirring from the inside of the machine before the ticket is produced and the change given. He takes the ticket and then goes for the change. As he turns from the machines a one pound coin slips from his grasp and he watches as it falls. It hits the edge of his shoe and spins away from him and across the smooth floor, the edge glinting as it catches the light. A brown leather ankle length boot stops it swiftly before a gloved hand reaches down and the coin is swept up in one fluid motion. He raises his eyes to see the face of the one now holding his runaway money and a memory flashes in his mind. It is of a suitcase. He then sees the grey hat and the brown shoulder length hair. She walks towards him slowly her smile once again shy. Without speaking, she hands him the coin which he places in his trouser pocket with the rest.

“Hello again” he says.

“Hello” she replies.