Time to go Home?

Barcelona/a month and a bit ago

Tell me a story.

What do you think this is? A public service or something?

Just tell me a story.

Ok… On the 26^th of October at two minutes past seven the Indian Summer came to an abrupt end and the autumn kicked in through the open window of John B’s Renault Clio as he returned from work.

That’s you isn’t it?

Maybe… He was listening to Miles Davis playing trumpet with John Coltrane the saxophonist on a CD compilation he had made earlier in the day and didn’t notice the climatic change immediately.

Ah.

But… then a chill settled on his face and he closed the window. He discovered that the car’s heater was still on and blasting hot air into the interior as it had been earlier that morning when the windscreen had been covered in mist. He also discovered that he was hungry, so he left the main road and parked in front of the Passion for Bread Bakery.

Riveting stuff.

Sarcasm.

Carry on.

He chose a cheese and ham sandwich and a tub of home-made forest fruit ice cream and sat outside watching the evening settle and the final visitors arrive and depart.

That’s it.

That’s it?

It’s not a story; it’s a beginning! What happened next?

He went home.

He went home?

Some guy turned up to buy bread and left his car engine running the whole time he was being served.

Ignoramus!

Rude! The woman packed up the chairs outside.

It was time to go home.

Exactly!! It was; so he did.

The End.