Prompt : "Sorry, I can't help you"
|Word Count : 199
"Sorry, I can't help you."
"But, but it's your job. You have to help. What am I going to do?"
Thomas stood before the man, wringing his hands and pleading with his most earnest face. Desperation billowed from him like a cloud.
"I think you've come to the wrong place, Sir."
"No no, you don't understand. I absolutely must get the train to London tonight. My wife, she has gone into labour, she will be giving birth and I need to be with her."
How could the man not sympathise? Why wasn't he doing everything in his power to help. Thomas was at a loss.
"Sir, might I hazzard a guess that you usually wear glasses?"
He'd left his glasses at the motel in his rush to leave, and so was forced to squint to try and make out the man's expression. Surely he wasn't smiling at Thomas's agony?
"What does that matter?
Frustration welled up in Thomas until he felt like he was going to burst. He wanted to scream, and shout, but it wasn't in his nature. If only the man would stop messing him around.
"You're in a model train store, Sir. Perhaps I could call you a cab to the station?"