Headlong
Short fiction — written in 10 minutes
He rushed headlong along with the crowd from the train.
The city was a brutal place for him — everyone was out for themselves.
Rushing ahead towards a better everything … job, car, holiday and who the hell knows, what else.
He heard and then saw the cheery-faced magazine seller. Smiling and greeting everyone as they appeared from the underground.
His cheeks ruddy. His eyes always sparkling.
He wondered how much joy he spread each day. And whether others noticed, or even cared?
The streets were deep in shadows from the morning sun.
Tall buildings guarding the horizon.
The coffee shops a-buzz with early morning percolated hope.
Crossing the street, dodging cars, trams and uber drivers hustling their way to a living.
And what awaited him?
Two glass doors to a tower in the sky.
Housing the kings and queens of commerce and all their loyal minions.
He pushed the doors open and entered.
Just wrote this now in the last 10 minutes, on a Friday afternoon whilst (thankfully) working from home. I chose a word ‘headlong’ and wrote what came to me — I guess about my city working days.
Happy Friday to all of you
Mick
