Tuesday, 9 September 2008

Tony

Relaxing on the beaten up leather sofa, Tony had his feet up on the broad coffee table. A lack of early customers meant that he'd been able to sweep and wash the whole floor without anyone walking on the wet bits. Now, the only sensible thing to do was to sit here and watch, marooned on a little island, as the shiny parts of the floor dulled into a sea of flat matt tones. Pray that no-one came in for a while.

His eyes fixed upon the odd star pattern of broken glass in the bottom left hand corner of the largest pane. It's shattered shape had been there since the day he got this job. That was exactly three weeks after he had left school, at age 16, not knowing if he had passed any exams or not. It was the same amount of time it had taken him to discover that life without the routine he was so eager to leave behind, was actually pretty meaningless. 

When he started working at the cafe his friends had all laughed and told him what a loser he was. Most of them still spent their days hanging round on street corners. He hadn't intended to stay this long, but now at age 23, he was beginning to want to broaden his horizons.

He often looked at that shattered star, thought that it was like him, stuck in a corner, low down, only reaching a tiny part of it's potential, while there was a whole world out there waiting.