MONEY
My favourite Floyd album was playing as I found an empty table. I was singing along in my head – Money, so they say, is the root of all evil today ...
“Mind if I join you?”
A plump middle-aged man wearing a thick weatherproof jacket, scarf and woollen hat sat down without waiting for a reply. He removed his hat, surprising me with the difference it made to his appearance. He had round features and was completely bald. I amused myself with the thought that my new companion had the sort of face that might look just the same upside-down.
“I’m Tom” he announced as we waited for our coffees to arrive. He had found somebody to talk to and, with a feeling of dismay, I realised that there would be no easy escape.
“I’m a photographer – well just an amateur.” I nodded and smiled at what I thought were appropriate moments as Tom outlined the rationale behind his latest photo blog, ‘Flat Broke’- a documentary of the last three years of his life in a single-bedroom flat.
“One latte and one Americano” interrupted the waitress.
Tom was in full flow but I wasn’t really listening. My gaze had fallen on the next table. A pretty, young girl, probably a student, was writing something inside the cover of a paperback book.
“I’ve covered everything. There are about 120 photos, including inside the fridge and under the sink.”
The girl paused. She nibbled on her stick biro as she gathered her thoughts. The glitter in her white nail varnish twinkled as her hand caught the light.
“I converted them all to black and white to give them documentary integrity.”
After a few seconds contemplation she continued to write, and then, moments later, closed the book - she was finished.
“I’m hoping to exhibit a selection of images from ‘Flat Broke’ in the photo society end of year show.”
The girl stood up, gathered her bag and keys and walked out into the cold November morning. Then I noticed she had left her book behind.
“She’s left something – back in a min” I said to Tom. In my haste I jolted the table. Tom’s coffee spilled into his saucer.
“Shit - sorry”. I didn’t have time for lengthy apology as I scooped up the paperback and hurried to the door. Too late! She’d disappeared.
I looked at the book – ‘The Age of Innocence’ by Edith Wharton. There was a Postit note inside the front cover (that’s what she had been writing!)
To whoever finds this - it’s my favourite book. I hope you will love it too. Let me know if you do. Then release it for someone else to enjoy. C x (justlovingbooks@gmail.com)
I sat down and finished my coffee. “She left it on purpose", I explained to Tom, pulling on my coat.
Pink Floyd were losing the struggle to be heard above the snorting, hissing coffee machine – and I was off to find somewhere quieter. I had some reading to do.
