Just a short one today. It felt like a good place to stop because I’ve had an idea about what happens next and I think it needs to be in its own section.
Ten minutes after leaving his house, Joe was walking towards Crow’s Funeral Home with a tiny bag of belongings, his loyal dog and the clothes on his back.
He really hoped that Mrs Crow didn’t have another one of her turns. Not now. Not in front of everyone on the high street. That would be really embarrassing and well, awkward.
‘What changed?’ he asked, finally, hoping to keep her awake long enough to get her to the home. He wanted the job. He really did but going from a week’s trial to nothing? What was that all about? And what exactly did she mean about being desperate?
‘What do you mean?’ she replied, coming to a standstill in the middle of the very busy path. A guy with a crew cut and a large bulldog tattoo on his neck skidded to a halt to avoid bowling her over. He tutted before moving away.
‘Prick!’ she shouted, showing the middle finger to his back.
Joe felt strangely unwell. No, maybe not unwell, unnerved was probably a better description. The past two days had been rather surreal and he was beginning to wonder if he was, in fact, going a little crazy.
‘Well,’ he said, trying to gain his composure, ‘you said I needed to have a trial and now you’re just giving me the job? What’s changed? It’s not like I’ve done anything to impress you, is it?’
She stared him, eyes narrowed and shrugged. ‘Like I said, we’re desperate. Now, are you going to stand there whining like a little child, or, are you coming?’ She spun on her heels and raced off towards the home.