This is a sample of a short story I'm currently working on. This is the 1st page.
| â€śTheyâ€™ll bury you in that fucking suit.â€ť
â€śDonâ€™t you have any other clothes?â€ť
James scratches his head and looks at the ground. Mark chews a toothpick and stares at him, â€śget in the car.â€ť
They begin to drive and the suburbs hang outside the window. Dead houses and a grey overcast sky. Itâ€™s drizzling and the air tastes wet and worn out.
James picks at his tattered cuffs and Mark watches the road. They pass a drive thru, on a whim Mark flips the indicator and idles over.
Thereâ€™s a buzz and a bored voice says â€śWhatâ€™ll it be?â€ť
â€śBig Mac and the cheapest burger youâ€™ve got.â€ť
The intercom buzzes and they drive round. When they get to the window thereâ€™s already a pimpled kid standing with his arm outstretched. He gives Mark the burgers in a brown bag and they leave the drive thru.
Mark tosses James the bag and says â€śYou eat my Mac, youâ€™re dead.â€ť James nods and takes out his burger; itâ€™s gone in two bites. The smell of the Mac wafts up and his stomach rumbles. He stares out the window. After a few featureless miles they reach the house.
When they get out of the car the sound of kids playing in a faraway yard fills the air. Everythingâ€™s in shades of grey and James watches Mark walk to the door; by the time he reaches it his suit has begun to darken from the rain. James sighs and follows him, eventually he's at Marks side and the sound of footsteps is clear on the other side. Thereâ€™s a click and the door opens a crack. The smell of steamed vegetables fills the air and an old woman appears, her face is lined like a walnut and thereâ€™s fear in her eyes. A small voice in Jamesâ€™s head says bingo.
Mark breathes in and broadens his shoulders. He sets his chin and steps slightly forward, â€śMaâ€™am, do you know how many ways I could get into your house?â€ť The woman stares at him, sheâ€™s about to say something when Mark holds his hand up, palm out and says â€śSeventeen, in other words your house could kill you in seventeen different ways.â€ť
Her eyebrows knit together; she whispers â€śWhat do you mean?â€ť
â€śYour house is unsafe, I could run a coat hanger under that window and open it or I could stick this-â€ťMark pulls out a telescopic poleâ€ś-through your cat flap and open your door from the inside. I could also use it to loosen the tiles on your roof and get in via your chimney.â€ť The fear in the womenâ€™s eyes has grown and the door rattles. James stares at her and can see her lip quivering, briefly her hand comes into view; itâ€™s shaking like a sap in a storm. Mark sees the hand, this is the tricky part. He stretches out his arms and pats the air in front of him, â€śRelax, weâ€™re not criminals, weâ€™re insurance salesmen.â€ť