Fiction Travel

Hey Jack

March 20, 2008

“Good morning Jack.”
“Mornin.”
The three white-haired poised ladies scaled the bus steps with a confidence only awarded age. Their lips were kissed pink and each clutched a hemp grocery bag tightly. They found their seats.
The blue and yellow two-story bus meandered through the country roads. The wiper blades ready should it begin to rain. The driver Jack appeared to know everyone on the route.
“Hey Jack.”
“Hi, ya’ll right.”
The two ladies, not seeming to be of great aquaintance, found their cloth seats at the front and the driver moved on.
“Do you know what job I could do with no memory?”
“You could clean offices.”
“I don’t fancy cleaning.”
The young lady, smelling of a recent cigarette light, wrapped in warm clothes and a pink touque continued. Her arm appeared to be in a sling.
“I mean, it’s the interview that is ultimately the most entertaining. ‘What experience have you got?’ they ask. ‘I don’t know, look at my CV and you tell me!'”
The lady opposite stared into the distance trying to think of what her new friend could do with the seeming short memory. Nothing came to her.

TRUE STORY. Cambridge, England

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