She should have left him after those poems! They were not even his! Oh, such a liar he was!
A toyota stopped and Dave opened the door. Rain climbed inside and took a deep breath.
“A new pub is opened not far from your place. Let’s go check it out.” Dave knew how to start a conversation. He probably already knew what happened. It was written all over her face. “Just... do your face.”
Great! Now she looked as a carrot, all because of that Vince!
“Fine.” She nodded and opened her purse. Even though Vince always begged her not to use make up, it was a good thing she carried her powder. Now it was more useful than ever. Rain checked her face in the mirror. It wasn’t a carrot, it was a tomato! She spilled the guts to Dave. She didn’t even miss the part where that rag fell and Vince was left naked, crying over his dead piece of crappy art.
Darren H. Pryce
“So why are you crying?” Dave asked. “We gotta celebrate this.”
“I only attended all those stupid poetry readings because of him!” Rain sobbed again, trying to hold the tears, that betrayed her and appeared in the corners of her eyes again. “What can I do? I love him!”
“You’ll get over him after two pints.” Dave turned the wheel and parked by the newest pub sign. Rain got out of the car and fixed her hair. She wouldn’t give vince a satisfaction of appearing in a public place looking like a jack-in-the-box.
The pub was called “Charles Dickens” and it smelled like freshly painted wood. In the corner Rain noticed a big fireplace with a welcoming light of fire. A man met them at the entrance. He was in his forties and had a roman nose. His hair was easily touched by grey and he had a cigarette behind his ear.
“Hello, I’m John House.” The man said. He shook Dave’s hand and smiled at Rain. She was too busy looking around.