I was enjoying a quiet sit down in the park that Thursday afternoon, coffee in hand and the sun on my face. A perfectly, warm autumn day. I took a sip of coffee.
“Ah-BOO!” my interloper yelled from behind me.
I almost dropped my takeaway cup on my lap, dislodging the lid in the process. Coffee dripped through my fingers and sprinkled over my shirt.
“Hello Kelly. You’re late”, I said, ignoring the provocation. It would never do to appear rattled with this one. She would enjoy it too much.
The girl sat down on the grass next to me and took a cup of takeaway coffee from the disposable cardboard tray next to me.
Please meet Kelly: a jolly elf of a lass, 27 years old and quite stunning. My only complaint, if I should be forced to own one, is that her hair was cropped too short for my liking. She wore a Ramones t-shirt, blue jeans and sneakers. Or, as I tended to think of it as – Kelly’s all round year uniform.
“Hardly late”, she replied. “Blame the bus, Mr Anal”.