Mostly the Numbers

Gracie found love, Lizzie had a baby, Sally bought a house and Chloe found a fiver. The numbers were good and the streets were foam, all angles removed, all edge consigned to memory.

There were others, of course, students awaiting a moment and then another, padding along the cushioned tarmac, oblivious to what had gone before. “Are those questions no longer there?” thought Sef from the vantage point of a coffee shop, a skinny cappuccino vapouring before her. A final piece of pain au chocolat, light on pastry, awaited the end of patience. It was a week since she’d killed. Auditions were not yet open though the students outside milled in expectation of a queue.

Her morning was consumed by Gracie’s joy, not shared exactly, more displayed. Sef knew her place. That was fine. She feigned comprehension. The boy was perfect apparently. The details were sketchy but Sef suspected that her initial inference, that he was without cock, was incorrect.

 The coffee shop was itself foam, with transparent foam for windows and foam seats into which she sank to her waist. Momentarily she panicked but rescued her handbag from between foam cushions. She checked inside for the sidearm and found first a photograph of a generic baby staring up at the camera like a stoned dog. She’d have to ask Sally again what its name and gender were to avoid awkwardness when Lizzie next appeared unannounced.

Sally’s new house was admittedly rather nice; a large unused cellar that would have been ideal and a garden of plots, rockeries and flowerbeds which appeared to have been designed by a class of ‘problem’ children. Not that Sally would get the most out of it. Its best features would be given over to their two cats whilst she and Steve sat too close to a television wall.

She realised that she’d caught the attention of one particular student who was now hanging around outside the window, throwing glances in her direction. He leant nonchalantly against the pane but the foam had more give than expected and he was almost horizontal before he pulled himself up. He made to rescue the situation by lighting a roll up but his Zippo was out of fuel. Perhaps auditions wouldn’t be required. No time unfortunately, she had to meet Chloe soon for a bottle of wine, something light and soft, and a goss.