John on his day off

John Thomas eyed the ladies jogging in the park over his take-out coffee. Almost as bad as the stuff they offered him at the station – the consistency of tar or just short of golden syrup and the only thing that made it bearable was the amount of milk and sugar he chucked in it.

He sipped it at intervals, mostly using it as a prop though, as his gaze wandered over the curve of stretching legs, thighs and that sweet –

“John.”

He looked up, his eyes reluctantly shifting to the speaker. Beard. Green eyes. Glasses. Daniel.

“What can I do for you, Daniel?” He asked. Daniel sat next to him on the bench overlooking the park.

“Nice view,” Daniel said, raising his eyebrow. John replied with a slight shrug – more noncommittal than an innocent gesture. Daniel spent his free time fixing watches. It was a passion passed down from his father. But he never chose it as a profession.

As Daniel stared at the morning moms jogging across the promenade, John tried to make some headway with his coffee. The sip he took was long and thirsty but the face he pulled showed he was anything but satisfied. He sighed and dumped the foam cup in the dustbin near his elbow and settled into his seat.

“You know Janine phoned me yesterday. Said you’re working with the police again.” Janine was John’s secretary.

“Janine has a big mouth,” John replied. It was true. Janine could wheedle details out of almost anyone. It was the reason John kept her around, but with the good comes the bad – she just loved a good gossip.

“I thought you said you’d never work with them again.”

“I say a lot of things…”

 

Originally written: [22:50] 03/08/10
Edited: [18:07] 09/08/11

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About sonneillon

Avid reader (of sometimes dubious literature), word-lover and crazy TV series watcher. If I could live in a library, I would.

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"We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown."

- T. S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (1917)

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