A LONG SLEEP – copyright Stevie Turner 2019
(you can find Chapter 4 here)
The café is almost empty at nine thirty on the Monday following my holiday, and I’m able to plonk myself in Kieran’s seat. I allow myself a little bit of cream on the scone today as well as the jam, as a kind of pick-me-up I suppose.
It’s rather sumptuous to take a bite and savour the artery-clogging cream. I don’t care that some of it stays around my mouth, as I’ve got my back to everyone. However, in mid-bite I’m aware of a waft of fried breakfast coming from somewhere behind me. A pleasant baritone voice pipes up.
“Didn’t see you last week. On holiday were you?”
The man who likes to sit in Kieran’s seat is standing by my right shoulder holding a loaded tray, and I have my mouth stuffed…
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