Archive for June, 2015

June 28th 2015

Sunday, June 28th, 2015

Discounted…

“Excuse me,” the young man with the light brown blazer and dark hair addressed the cashier.

“HDMI cables, where can find them please?”

The teenager pointed him to the third isle to the left, before blowing her blond fringe away with a jet of air from her lips.

It was almost his turn in the queue when the young man returned carrying a small box with a red “discounted” sticker.

As he walked away, he could sense the holder of the reduced box approaching the girl with the fringe.

“I can’t believe this; this is the very HDMI cable that I returned a week ago, because I thought it was overpriced, and now that I’ve realised your model is one of the better types in the market… voila!”

Her fringe was blown away again.

Peace and love,

Ja’far

June 21st 2015

Monday, June 22nd, 2015

Flowers…

He took his preferred spot on the train carriage, close to the window, and opened  the book, seeking the last paragraph he’d read all of two days ago.

The mother and daughter from the Indian subcontinent were busy studying the line route above the window, and comparing it to the pocket-sized Underground map. The teenage girl was clearly pleased with the trust and responsibility she’d been given of getting her mother to a destination, albeit a bit flustered too.

When the train doors slid open, a fresh fragrance drew his attention away from the page to the isle.

There,  in a navy blazer and a pressed white shirt stood a young man holding a bouquet of flowers that soon began to spread their scent in reaction to the heat of the confined space.

The daughter found her mother somewhat less interested in the plan she had for the journey; surreptitiously, she was stealing glances to the blazer, flowers and the dark eyes above them.

He soon realised that the girl’s parent was part of an undeclared party of admirers along the length of the car.

The moment the handsome one stepped off, many a neck turned, and a smile formed on lips, as the fresh fragrance lingered on in the moving train.

Peace and love,

Ja’far

June 14th 2015

Sunday, June 14th, 2015

A big boy…

“So, I wrote back , ‘the contract we signed doesn’t allow it to go for longer than 12 weeks,’” she said, drawing an imaginary line with her long manicured finger on the table, causing the coffee cup with a small smudge of lipstick to shake gently.

The phone emitted a discreet bleep, and she made the act of pushing her hair away from her ear a lesson in understated elegance.

“Yes, hold on, I need to step out.”

As she negotiated around the chair and sofa, she reminded her husband, who’d camouflaged himself  with a broadsheet from the legal-speak with her friend, “babe!”

The subject in question was a toddler who was busy bashing a toy yellow cab against his high chair table.

within seconds of her leaving, the youngster lost his grip on the car which upon hitting the table surface bounced back and hit him straight on the forehead.

The child’s shriek and sobs brought the lady back, and between them the party of three adults managesdto calm the boy and assure him that he and his toy were fine.

“it’s OK; he’s a big boy,” the mother was saying, as she wiped away the kid’s tears.

The phone gave out another bleep; she offered her partner an encouraging look, before heading out again to take the call.

Peace and love,

Ja‘far

June 7th 2015

Wednesday, June 10th, 2015

Late…

His train had “en retard” displayed next to it in red letters.

He wandered to the the bench in in the clean and empty small hall adjoining the ticket office.

Looking thorugh his map, and wondering to himself whehter it would be worth opting for a bus ride instead, a young mother came in with her two or three-year old son.

The lad began to whimper in his pram, and perhaps due to her delayed train, the heat outside, or just exhaustion, she angrily asked him, “what’s wrong with you? Huh? Why can’t you be happy and quiet for one minute, so mummy can think straight for a second? Telll me, what’s wrong, huh?”

With the child’s tears streaming and his his little hand pointing to the snacks machine, she emerged out of her momentary impatience with the boy.

“Asfah,” she pleaded with him, apologising in her Arabic mother tongue.

Finding no conins in her purse, and the cries of the little one getting more tearful and moving by the second, the couple of people queuing for the tickets counter moved aside, so the middle-aged lady behind the glass would give the mother some change.

Happy child and chocolate bar boarded the train with his mother.

By the time his train arrived, he had given in to the tempation and sampled one of the offerings of the automated dispenser.

Peace and love,

Ja’far