A Brief Note:

This story will come out in thirteen parts, every other day for the next few weeks.

It was an unusual story for me to write, as it came from a ‘What if?’ scenario, which isn’t something I’d really done before, so thanks to KF for the inspiration, and I hope you enjoy it.

He looked tired and old, worn at the edges, like a deck of cards in a late night poker hall. His jacket spoke of better times, but those times were lost even to memory, along with the buttons that would have run down the front in neat procession. His shoes argued with the rest of his ensemble, shiny, smart, and modern. His face was twisted in a grimace, and his arms were wrapped about his thin shoulders, as if the warm afternoon sunlight, that had coaxed her from the bank for lunch, couldn’t warm him.

Suddenly, he was closer, and her stomach lurched, like she’d taken the last step of a staircase and discovered there was another still to go. She shoved her sandwich back into the Boots bag, and hastily gathered her things, handbag under one arm, can clutched in the other hand, then went to stand.

“You should read this.”

“Ahhh!”

She dropped the can, and watched it hit the floor in slow-motion, Fanta glugging out onto the dark tarmac. He was shoving a book under her nose, and without thinking, she took it, feeling the soft leather give slightly under her fingers. Her manners took over,

“Thank you”

She muttered, then looked up at him. He had an expectant, nervous look, like a father in the delivery room. She had the odd desire to make him happy, what with him looking so trampy and on-edge.

“Ummm, ok? I will?”

She half expected him to smell, but caught only the faint whiff of old leather and empty houses. The front of the book was blank and she looked back up at him, curiosity getting the better of her.

“What’s it about?”

He smiled and his teeth matched his shoes, neat white rows that made her close her mouth in sudden embarrassment. The braces she’d worn throughout school were gone, but the memories remained. He motioned at the book with his head, then cocked it to one side.

“it’s a biography, very moving. It’ll change your life.”

“Oh.”

She looked back down at the empty cover.

“So, who’s it about then?”

She looked back up, but the park was empty. She stood and stared around, a shiver running down her back. He couldn’t have got far enough in the time it took her to look at the book, it was physically impossible. And he had been there, cos there was a book in her hand and she wasn’t mad, at least, not in that way. Looking back on it, that was when things changed, that realisation of the impossible happening. The things that came later were ripples, flowing out from that exact moment.

She was sweating lightly, and the sun was only partly to blame. She glanced again at the book, then tucked it into the Boots bag with her sandwich, and headed back to work.