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The Third String.

Tales from a Dagda Bard

17/2/2020 2 Comments

Apology Not Accepted.

Picture
“I’m sorry.” 
The couch let out a huff of air as I dropped into it. Traffic had been as busy as one would expect for a sunny afternoon. Everywhere you could look folk were out grabbing what light they could, bathing in the radiance of the day star. Or that’s how I liked  to think of it. I rummaged around in my satchel to grab my glasses case to swap from sun glasses to regular ones. My companion had picked a back corner table in the café. Enough to be out of the way, but with an open view of the area all around. 
“You’re excused.” 
He sat on the other end of the couch a wide deep mug set before him, the froth of the cappuccino smooth and flat except on one edge where the first sip had been taken.
“What?”


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