This cafe has been a haunt of many years, Charlie B thought to himself. Previously it was also a hunting and perving ground too. How things have changed, he thought almost sadly.
The rain is pouring down. I couldn't wish for anything better. But I've moved inside, my notebook was getting wet and my ink was running.
Now I need to acknowledge a headache, louder music, also - because this is like sitting inside a large concrete shoe box lying on its side - everyone's voices and laughter amplified. And the delicious racket of the rain.
Every now and then a cool-almost-cold and unexpected breeze scrapes along the hairs of his arm as he imagines a ghost, who was trying to get his attention, might consider doing.
It makes me shiver with anticipation at... well... - Charlie B thinks looking up and frowning - ...nothing. Previously times like these would most likely have been a respite from hunting - flesh hunting. Flesh hunting before more flesh hunting. And the anticipation would be sheer, unadulterated lustful excitement.
The aluminium sliding doors, tall and slim, have been closed against the rain. And with the shutting Charlie B suddenly realises he's sitting in the smoking section.
I'm looking at the world through tear-stained but happy windows. The smoke makes it only slightly uncomfortable, almost sexy. That was until my left brain bitch kicked in.
A fat, barefoot woman with long black curly hair, silver spectacles and a triple ivory-coloured chin momentarily blocks out the dusk- light from outside. The eclipse, albeit brief, is enough to make Charlie B look up. He notices that her shoes are gripped in her right hand. She also has cracks in her heels but smells suprisingly lovely.
Although her scent is a citrus, summery one, Charlie B doesn't shiver with anticipation.