Wednesday, 15 April 2015

A Story Where The Opening Scene Happens Last


Here is a story where the opening scene happens last. It ends, and for that matter begins, with a smile and a raincoat. What happens in between is another matter altogether. Somewhere along the way there is a fresh newspaper filled with old news and one of those peculiar wayside tales that one day will be of great interest to social commentators who really want to get to grips with what life in our particular century was like. They won’t, for all their skill in choosing words, properly pin it down because they just weren’t there. All that they will have is an approximation. The story within another strange story, written in a fast-paced high-octane narrative happened over coffee served in a concertinaed corrugated cup. The man picked up the coffee, smiled at the serving girl and walked off without paying for it. It wasn’t raining as he walked down the crowded street sipping at his stolen coffee and he certainly didn’t have a raincoat. If you should look at the story in the paper, you’ll get the impression that his life was over in three paragraphs. Perhaps it was: after all, none of us were really there. It’s starting to rain now: better grab your raincoat if you’re going anywhere.

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