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It was a gloomy autumn afternoon. Agatha got off on Peel Station. She looked at her watch and noticed she was two hours early for her book launch. Her first published book. She walked towards Ste. Catherine Street and went inside a coffee shop. She sat next to the window, staring blankly at a throng of dark trench coats that glided like ghosts across the street. Agatha …
Agatha stared harder, realising with a shiver that she was looking at trench coats, nothing else, no legs or faces or indeed any body. Just trench coats gliding by in silence.
ReplyDelete"What can I get ya?"
ReplyDeleteAgatha startled at the question with a gasp and glanced up at the waitress who asked it.
"Oh sorry, did I scare ya?"
Lost in her own world, Agatha had been oblivious to the gum-chewing waitress, who could have been standing there for who knows how long? Three, four, five minutes... possibly...
ReplyDeleteThe rhythmic tap of her pen on the notepad seemed to confirm this suspicion.
Agatha realised that she had been holding her breath. She glanced out the window again. The empty trenchcoats continued to drift past in the grey drizzle. She looked up at the pimply face of the waitress. "Um," she said, stretching out the vowel a little. She really didn't know what to order.
ReplyDeleteThe waitress pushed a greasy paper menu across Agatha's table. "Lots of different coffees to choose from. Cappucino's good here. Lemme know when you're ready." As she moved away from the table, Agatha's gaze fell to the hemline of the woman's wrinkled taupe uniform. The waitress had no legs. Like the trenchcoat forms outside, she appeared to glide on a cushion of air.
Shaking her head, eyes screwed shut, Agatha inhaled deeply, held her breath for several seconds then slowly let it out again and carefully opened her eyes.
ReplyDeleteWhat am I doing here, she thought in disbelief as she gazed around the interior of what now looked to be a dishevelled greasy-spoon café.
Pushing back her chair with a loud scrape, Agatha rushed for the door.
"Hey! What about your order?" The calls of the waitress fell on deaf ears.
Cool autumnal air filled Agatha's lungs and caressed her face. Her whole body felt as if it were gently swaying. She suddenly staggered and felt a pair of arms catch her collapsing body.
"Whoa, easy there!" The voice was masculine, but light in tone as if it were smiling. The scent of cologne washed over her, comforting and familiar, as her eyes closed in a faint.