Mitchell's Mustard Blog

February 15, 2015

The red dress . . . a snippet of a crime story I’m toying with.

Filed under: My Work — Tags: , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 8:47 pm

The smell of freshly ground coffee beans, the sound of distant chatter from the passing by shoppers, the occasional glance and smile from the male customers of the open air
coffee shop in the Grand Arcade, that’s what made her feel special. Only if it was for a moment or two, but it was that moment that gave her the butterflies that she missed so much. The flush of her skin and her chocolate brown hair that entwined with her fingers while she felt nervous, as she turned, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror, she looked good today. Not that today she had made a conscious effort to dress up, but the little red number that won the bedroom fashion show in earlier hours was proving to be worth the price tag. From across the room she looked unapproachable, pillar box red lipstick to match the dress, slim features that complimented the loose curling of her treated hair, heels that showed confidence as well as money. She had caught his attention while he bought his coffee, as he made his approach the last thought on his mind was how emotionally damaged she was going to be.
“Hey, I hope you don’t mind me saying but a lady like you should never be sitting on her own.” he said as he gestured towards a seat at her table.
“A lady like me?” she replied and let him hover
“Yes, you should be in company, laughing and smiling.” He replied still hovering by the chair waiting for her to accept his own invitation.
“And I guess you’re the man for the job?” she said with a sarcastic tone,
“Not necessarily, I’m just trying to be polite, maybe start a conversation with you?” he said whilst getting the feeling that his usual chat up line wasn’t working.
“Oh right, well I’m not in the mood to talk so you can un-invite yourself and if you could please be kind enough to fuck off!” she said with a straight face.
“Oh, yeah, sorry to bother you” he said whilst suddenly finding her very unattractive.
He slowly turned on his heels and made his way across the coffee shop to find another seat whilst she took a sip from her coffee and considered ringing Charlie, she had been considering contacting him every hour of everyday since she left that note on their bed but knew it wasn’t a good idea. If he was to find out the real reason why she had left, he would give her all the time and space in the world, and probably all her stuff back from the apartment in exchange for the key.

Calming red tint to the walls from the beige and red light shades that pull you in from the hustle and bustle of the shopping complex, the smell of coffee and what could be fresh bread keeps it inviting. Soft flowing sounds of jazz that’s occasionally drowned out by laughter in this first floor coffee shop, a young couple ironing out their problems on the table next door. They keep their discussions under hats or close to their chests, a steady stare around the room before starting another sentence just in case someone may be listening in to their master plan. Two young lads a couple of tables down laughing and joking about girls and past times, experiencing that moment in life when it feels hard just thinking of asking out their soon to be sweethearts. Sitting on the table at the edge of the coffee shop looking out over the ground floor shoppers is a man, a man waiting. It was never an unusual thing to see a man waiting in a coffee shop, but there was something quite different about this man, he had a certain urgency about him which is what made it seem strange. He came across as a man who didn’t spend much of his time on hold, a man of business, of importance. The constant tapping of his fingers on the table showed his agitation, but it didn’t pass the time quicker. It made him feel like he was doing something instead of just waiting, he had control. He sat and watched her, waiting for her to leave the coffee shop situated across from him on the lower level of the Grand Arcade.

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