Short Story Preview: Away for Christmas
“But he’s never late,” Gerry repeated.
It was all very well for Mel to keep saying he’d be there soon but how the Dickens did she know?
“Bye-ee,” she interrupted her, and put down the phone, forgetting the Merry Christmas bit. But Mel already had her present, nicely wrapped: a reward. This taxi palaver was different. She was a paying customer, a loyal one.
Gerry sat by the window in her best coat and purple beret, watching the rain batter the puddles below. Her stick lay across the sill and her suitcase stood upright on its little wheels beside her. Where in Hades was he?
The car had changed a few times over the years but the arrangements never did. It wasn’t as if there was snow this time to throw the country into disarray. After twenty-odd Christmases, Gerry would have thought he could time it to the second, bar Hell or high water or asteroid attack.
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