Sunday 26 April 2009

 

You Don't Have To Dress Up.

Well, if you don’t want to dress up, you don’t have to, he says into his phone as he passes me on his way into the coffee shop, whatever you’re comfortable with. A skinny bloke, looking for someone, the phone pressed to his ear while he multitasks. His skin is a well tanned colour, perhaps a shade of olive. He wears a loose Joker t-shirt, one of those Heath Ledger ones everyone was wearing for a while - white shirt, with that exaggerated smile and the splash of black for eyes. Over that he wears a light, and open, black cardigan. He wears knee length shorts, blue, with white pin stripes, and pockets like combats. On his feet has black and red checked converse, and woolly black socks. His head is shave around the sides, to a stubbly 2 or so, leaving a couple of spiked inches on top, sculpted in some way with product. His voice is quite camp, and it carries as he walks in and back out again, not having found who he is looking for. A couple minutes later he returns with a girl, who has been wandering round the bookshop while she waited. She is obviously not feeling the heat the same way he is, a heavy jacket, a scarf, full length black trousers, a bag over her shoulder. As they get to the counter she must say that she is hungry, so they stop, and he suggests they go for pizza then. She points out that he has already eaten, and he tells her he’ll just have a salad then. Where will we go, he asks I don’t know, where do you want to go, she asks. I’ve made you wait for an hour and a half, he says it in an apologetic, incredibly embarrassed kind of half joking whine, its up to you . Look, I am not choosing, she raises her voice, and I’m reminded of how many times I’ve had this conversation myself before. And they leave. And they return. Standing back at the counter, trying to decide what kind of paninis they are going to go for, till they eventually get served and take a seat.

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