Listen:
It was only late September but already the weather was sliding towards winter, the sky pale white and the wind cold enough to redden my cheeks. Even the people in the cafe were quieter, murmuring softly between themselves, their voices huddled together to preserve heat.
I stared down into my empty coffee cup. The cup was one of those standardized white porcelain numbers, short and squat, with a wide top that tapered down into a thin bottom. On the rim of the cup was a red smudge of lipstick — the memory of a kiss.
The cafe door swung open, admitting a tall man and a gust of wind that sent everyone further into their seats. I turned to look, saw the first faint fingerprints of rain against the glass. The man was wearing a large brown raincoat, the detective kind with many pockets. The coat was loose on his arms but snug on his protruding belly.
Was I imagining the whispers, the sidelong glances? Everyone in town knew I hadn’t spoken to my brother in years. Even the barmaid seemed to be moving with unnecessary exaggeration, stacking the dishes and making as much noise as possible.
My fingers tightened around the handle of the coffee cup. The porcelain felt strong but I knew that it could break so easily — it was something we had in common.
He took the seat opposite me, shrugging out of his long coat and setting it down on the table between us. His face was heavier than I remembered, his cheeks looser, a spiderweb of smiles lingering at the corners of his mouth and eyes. But his eyes were the same, sharp and boyish and so very gentle as he looked at me.
I bowed my head and looked down at the coffee cup instead. “You came back,” I whispered.
Great atmosphere, the cold and the coffee cup rooted me into the room.
Thank you! Can you tell it’s miserable weather here? :-P
The descriptions in your piece are so very vivid. Could see the cup, the people, and feel the tang of cold weather.
Quite intriguing snapshot which leaves me eager to know the whole story.
Thanks! It was an experiment in creating atmosphere more than anything else. :-)
I love the way you use words, your descriptions are so wonderful at setting atmosphere and scenery. This is a wonderful piece. It also hit very close to me as I am in a place like the character where I haven’t spoken to my brother in so long so I could put myself right there in her shoes.
Thanks! I was very much trying to practice description-writing (I generally get carried away with action) so I’m glad you found this piece evocative.
Almost missed this one. Look at you, #sundayflashing…
Is it sliding towards winter where you are? It’s 82 degrees here. The tale is eerie no matter the temperature.
Didn’t you know, sundayflashing’s the new fridayflashing? :-)
Yep, here in London we’re on the slippery slope to winter-time. Hot chocolate all around! Except for to you, you lucky sod!
The heat spell has been something else. Jetstream has dumped multiple storms on us lately. It destroyed my battery back-up last night.
Since I’m back around here for the new round of friday-sunday-flashing (is it really a flash if it lasts six days? Isn’t that a lightbulb?), allow me to commend the ends of the first two paragraphs. They twist up into finer prose and made me think you’d keep it up for the whole tale.
Nice! You did capture the atmosphere well, and there were some lovely touches. I liked the “memory of a kiss” and “voices huddling for warmth”. Good stuff :)
Thank you! Those two were my favourite descriptions as well, although I am always worried about straying too far into semi-poetic descriptions and it just sounding wrong.
“the first faint fingerprints of rain….” I love that.
Thank you! It was tricky to say aloud for the audio version — took me three tries!
Oh this was wonderful to read. I felt thoroughly chilled through as you described the door opening! I would love to know what happens next.
Ha! Your guess is as good as mine as to what happens next — I didn’t think that far ahead!
PERFECT descriptions here. I felt like I was right there with them.
Jim
Thanks! I always forget to include descriptions in stories so it was good practice.