He must’ve Photo-shopped his picture – one half then the other to counteract the ever-shifting cast in his eye. The foetid crosswind of his minted smokey-bacon breath was another thing you couldn’t check online.
Likewise voice. His,
attempting to cajole, was whining, ‘Sorry, Doll, body on the line at Bakerloo...’
I could check that later.
Maybe. Nodded to Dave the
barman; he’d’ve known this one would need
swift intervention.
‘Gotta take a slash...’
Dave returned, unsmiling.
‘I still say it’s a bit drastic...’
‘But if your Dating Agency guarantees client vetting, it’s
essential to deliver...’
‘Even if it’s client into sewer?’[This week's entry for Prediction Fiction, using 'crosswind', intervene', and 'cajole'.]
No comments:
Post a Comment