12th Short Story

I frantically dodge pedestrians as I dash for my car. I look down to glance at my watch, taking my eyes off the path for a second at most but it’s enough; before I even realise it, the world becomes a blur and I plummet to the hard concrete.

THUMP!

“Shit!” I cry as the contents of my purse ricochet across the pavement. Crushed tissues, old gum wrappers and crumpled receipts littler the sidewalk; pinned down by a small fortune in spare change.

The zipper on my makeup bag has split, exposing its contents to the judging eyes of the world. I crouch down unsteadily, struggling to balance in my sling back stilettos.

I sit back on my heels, flustered; and take in the scene before me: My pantyhose are torn and crimson blood is slowly oozing from a shallow graze on my knee. My phone is in pieces, it’s irritating but expected, the warranty just ran out.  The latest issue of Cosmopolitan Magazine is lying in the gutter and Keira Knightly is grinning mockingly up at me from the cover, her face speckled with water.

 I glimpse at my watch again, mere minutes have passed, I am very, very late.

 I search the clutter anxiously for my cigarettes, desperate for a nicotine fix; I find them under the magazine, completely drenched. I reach over to them, feeling the sopping cardboard seeping under my red acrylic nails.

 Squelch!

 “Shit.” I groan, pained.

I start shovelling my possessions back into the bag. Firstly my make up, followed by the sodden magazine and cigarettes. I chuck my sunglasses in, followed by their case and a half empty packet of tic-tacs. I snatch my iPod out from under the toe of an oncoming construction worker, wrapping my headphones loosely around it before tossing it into the bag.

I sit for a moment, hopeless and stranded in the middle of the sidewalk, stressed and fumbling to collect the last of my belongings before they are crushed by clumsy pedestrians or blown away by the careless breeze. No one even thinks to slow as they pass.

I clamber to my feet, still flinging scraps into my handbag; I serge forward, stumbling slightly as I try to stand. I race for my car; scuffling with my keys. After a momentary eternity I get the door open, flinging myself into the driver’s seat and slamming on the accelerator. 

Screech!
I swerve out onto the road, one look at the clock drives my pedal to the metal; I twist to fix my lipstick in the rear-view mirror and accidently… run a red light. Sirens whirl and I see the tell-tale red and blue lights flickering behind my reflection.

 I am going to be so……… late.

 “SHIT!” I shriek. Slamming the breaks as the cop car comes level with me; I lean forward, bashing my forehead on the steering wheel as the officer taps sternly on my window, looking smug behind his shinny black aviators.

 “Excuse me Ma’am, but I’m gonn’a need t’ see yer driv’rs license.” He drawls in his thick Texan accent, his heavy eyebrows peaking over the top of his sunglasses. I sigh and reach for my purse, pulling out the thin piece of plastic. My heart starts to sprint, I feel sweat run down the back of my neck and my head I spinning. Slowly I turn back to the cop and cautiously offer it to him. Taking a deep breathe I stare intently at his face.

 Waiting.

 His features are different now; all traces of smugness are gone, replaced with a blank mask of shock, confusion and horror. ..

In hindsight I probably should have warned him; should have said something…

But I didn’t.

I stared at him innocently, my pulse echoing in my ears; he raises his right hand, sliding his sunglasses down his nose to gaze over the top of the lenses. His eyes were drowning in trepidation as his they search my face…

“Are you Mister Andrew Wilkins?”