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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1861169-The-Walk
by Russ
Rated: E · Short Story · Emotional · #1861169
A short story where everything and nothing happens.
Ignoring the rhythmic aching of his knees, Darren set off from his flat and headed off for a walk along the beach.

He was wrapped up in his favorite long black coat and wore a navy beanie hat to keep his naked scalp from the icy cold morning.

The traffic was light, rush hour was over and he made his way through the small town suburbs more quickly than he expected, leaving wisps of breath like a steam train in his wake.

As expected, the pain in his lower spine soon crawled around his hips and up between his shoulder blades.

He pressed his lips tightly together, sighed out a large, heavy cloud and kept walking.

Passing an old woman walking her upright shopping trolley, he stopped suddenly and turned when he heard her curse loudly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck !”, she spat vehemently and she tried to bend down to pick up a packet of cigarettes that had dropped from her clawed hand.

“You ok, love ? Let me get that for you.”, he offered as he bent down and handed the box to her.

“Thank you...I'm so sorry about my language !”, she said in a thick Welsh accent, her small darting eyes embarrassed.

“God, don't worry about it ! You should hear what I say sometimes !”, he grinned, consolingly.

“It's just...well, I get so frustrated you see ? Can't do much anymore....takes me hours to get a few bits in for tea...Jack's gone...and oh, I'm sorry. You don't want to hear me going on and on !”, she said, wiping her wrinkled cheek and smiling thinly.

“That's ok, don't worry. Do you live far ? I could walk you home if you'd like ?”, he said, eyes wide in a show of care.

“Thank you, no. I'm just around the corner.”, she gestured with her chin.

“Ok. Take care, love.”, he said, laying his pale hand briefly on her shoulder and then watched her turn away.

“You too.”, she replied and trundled painfully slowly and unsteadily along the uneven pavement in what Darren considered to be a rather sad metaphor for this woman's life.

“Poor cow.”, he thought as he turned and carried on his way, breathing out an occasional trail of increasingly large but fleeting clouds.



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