The Miles to Go

This here a quick post of that story i am attempting to write in serial.

Part Two: Bagel Shop Barter Faire


The taxi pulled around the corner, nearly knocking the paper-boy over. He jumped out of the way, and the driver had missed by inches. He yelled, “You fucking paki-pig terrorist son-of-a-bitch!” The cab stopped. The boy’s eyes opened wide, but he felt safe when a large white man got out of the car. His name was David Franklyn. He wore a black suit, with a white shirt. His tie was blue.

David walked up to the boy and said, “Eh, don’t worry kid, I didn’t tip him. I saw that too.” He threw the boy a quarter. The boy just looked at him, the quarter landing on the ground and rolling to the gutter. David walked into the bagel shop and sat at the bar.

The shop was like any other in this neighborhood. David was immediately given a coffee, and he watched the cream swirl in his cup as he threw the plastic cup to the side. “Bagel” he said. The young man behind the counter, tired and overworked, tossed a sesame bagel on a white plate and asked, “Butter?” David smiled, “Not today. I feel like staying healthy.” He handed the young man a five note, and had another in his hand. “Give this to the paper boy, and keep the change.”

The young man walked out to the street. David’s eyes went back to his coffee cup, which was half full now. As the young man returned to his post behind the bar, David smiled through half his mouth and asked, “Say, kid. You know that janitor, Earl Stevlin?” “No, that’s not familiar.” The young man replied quickly. “Why’s that?” “Oh, he’s just an old friend, I heard he lived next door.”

Franklyn sat down to write. He opened his pad and took out his pen and watched the bugs flap around outside his window. He lit a cigarette and the smoke fell to the ceiling. He smiled and sipped for he was tired yet content. He stared blankly at his paper trying to reason with it.

The day was damp. The lights from down the road fell loosely around a painting on the wall. Mother Mary was holding Jesus, and tears of joy ran down her face. She looked at him and smiled. The rusty chains on the swing near the porch squeaked. He thought the street seemed loud. He squeezed his hands and threw his pen towards the coffee table.