Fast Fiction: In These Parts
Perhaps it is for the best that some folk are only encountered once, as Richard Malinson's tale reveals.
'It's always raining these days,' said the woman in the bus shelter, out in the countryside. She was young, a farmer's wife.
'I like the rain,' said the man, middle-aged, wearing a raincoat.
'The bus will be here soon,' said the woman.
'There's no hurry,' said the man. 'I like being here, in these parts.'
'Where are you from, then?' the woman asked.
'Prison,' he said. 'I came out yesterday . . . Don't worry, I'm not violent. I'm an accountant - or at least I was.'
'Oh,' said the woman, 'you can do the books for our farm, then.'
They laughed.
On the bus they sat together, warmly, and when they reached the town he said, 'I'll find a cafe for breakfast . . . how about you?'
'I've had mine, thanks,' she said. 'Do you have enough money?'
'Yes . . . I was an accountant.'
They laughed again.
'I'd like to talk to you,' he said, almost shyly.
'I'll be back here for the 11 o'clock bus,' she heard herself saying.
She watched him walk along the street, suitcase in hand. As she shopped she thought about him and smiled to herself.
Of course, she was quite relieved when he didn't show up.
