Egg and Sausage in the Backseat of a Car
The sky is the colour
of baked beans, not canned but oven baked, mixed with beer or something
stronger, half digested, then rejected in the corner against a chipped brick
wall which has seen better times, and worse.
He has been awake for
a couple of sunrise hours, but not long enough to comb or even pull his fingers
through his hair. His car is skewed against the gutter, passenger foot well
cluttered with empty boxes of burgers, stale buns, crushed plastic and greasy
newspaper, back seat full of crumpled girl.
He met her last night, worse for wear. Well, he was. She
was, probably, if only he could remember. She looked stunning, like the
polished glass of a full bottle on the way to empty. Both thought it too good a
chance to miss. They dined on wine and take-away; mostly cheap wine, from the
feeling in his head.
He promised her breakfast if she stayed the night. He longed
for two eggs on a plate, she wanted sausage and some bread. She accepted, but
he cannot quite recall. He remembers little, these days.
She fumbles the
window winder and he staggers to open the car door. She falls forward and
slumps in the gutter, propped against the fender, smiling in a vaguely friendly
fashion at him.
And, like the dawn,
she is gone.
Martin Porter is a writer born in Jersey CI, now based in New
Zealand . His writing has appeared in
journals and collections in the USA ,
Europe and New Zealand .
Martin was the winner of the Channel Islands Writers Competition (poetry
section) 2005 and the Northland (NZ) Libraries 2012 and 2014 Flash Fiction
Competitions. His flash fiction "Splinters" received a Pushcart Prize
nomination in 2013 from the "Flash Frontiers" blog.
Martin Porter's dry humor and colorful prose make the unseemly almost picturesque. My favorite line is the one that ends in "...back seat full of crumpled girl."
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