DECEMBER 15 2013: PATIENCE
The old man sat in the smoke-choked bar listening to ‘Jingle Bells’.
Amparo rattled through the beaded curtain. She handed him a bag of leftovers.
'Thanks.' He hesitated, balanced on a razor edge of desire. 'When can I see you?'
'You're a fool to keep asking.'
'And you're a beautiful coward.'
At home his dogs jostled him, toenails tap-dancing on the flagstones. He tipped Amparo's leftovers into grubby bowls. An elderly moped belched up the drive.
He blinked. 'You came?' Stupid, stupid question.
Amparo appraised him. 'I must be mad.'
He took her hand. 'Happy Christmas,' he said.
About the Author
Susan Eames left England over twenty years ago to explore the world and dive its oceans. She has had travel articles and short fiction published on three continents. She lived in Fiji until recently and is currently vagabonding around Europe with her husband in a Motorhome.