under cover
Spooks; Ruth
177 words, G
All around her, Ruth can hear the gentle rise and fall of happy voices in the crowded cafe. She appears to be the only one alone on the balmy Saturday evening, with her cup of tea and novel.
She reads the one paragraph three times over before she realises she hasn't taken a word in. She sets the book back down. It's no use - she feels too restless, too distracted to focus on the story in front of her.
It has been like this everywhere she goes, everywhere she's travelled since leaving London, leaving Harry behind. Unable to keep her attention on one thing too long, unable to hold interest in anything. Always wondering if anybody's watching her, following her, if anybody sees her for the dead woman she's supposed to be.
You're a born spook, Ruth, he'd said to her, pinning her against a wall in his office once, that fierce, almost proud look in his eyes, once. She can't pretend that it's never his face she looks for in the crowds, anonymous and alone.
Short, crappy, incoherent. Written at a cafe at ten in the evening on Saturday, as I waited for some friends. Hope somebody out there enjoyed this, in spite of all that! OHGOD RUTH ILU.