Michael
167 Words
Michael
I’m driving like an i***t, racing to reach Charlotte, Mitch and Kirstie.
Why’s Charlotte not answering her phone?
And I’m hoping that the answer is the happy one; that she’s simply distracted, talking; enjoying herself and not paying attention. Or that she has the ringer turned off. Or…
My head swirls…
James said Francesca’s tea rooms…
Already, it’s nearly dark.
What time do they stay open until?
Friday. Late night. Probably until 9pm.
My mobile screen flashes, the vibe making the dashboard rattle as the phone dances over the vinyl. It’s Ben.
On loudspeaker, “Ben? Where are you?”
“Almost there. Just letting you know, I’m pulling into the car park now, so we might lose the signal. I’ll be in touch as soon as I know anything.”
And I return to champing and cursing at the traffic holding me trapped.
James…
I check my phone. No call. No message.
I check my watch. He’s had plenty of time to reach the shelter.
Should I call him?
Is he hurt?
Hiding?
Tapping in, I send a message.
Nothing.
“f**k, James, talk to me.”
Got me talking to myself now…
*****
- Writer
