The cinema, the smell of popcorn and stale air, velvet chairs never cleaned; all those fat arses. The picture flickers. Car chase, knife fight. They’d been there.

 The ending was so obvious. You get used to it after a while. Sylvester follows the crowd out. He has the credit cards, has the power. If Bev doesn’t believe then he will explain, the movies he watches always end on a high. So high.

A nearby hotel. The blue lozenge of a computer screen.

“Excuse me. I don’t mean to bother you.”

A death in the family, he explains, the woman in the photo on his phone wasn’t to know. Family reunions are difficult, he’s sure the woman in blue understands.

“No sorry, haven’t seen her.”

“With a kid.”

She comes around. Reunions are beautiful things. Beautiful and tough to get through, but worth it.

Was that a tear?

“Sounds like you’ve been there,” he tells her. Working on the graveyard shift is never fun, he says., good money though. “You live local?”

Flowers on a grave grow wild, the announcement of new beginnings. Does she not believe that too?

“I’m not going to give up. Might circle back around later tonight.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

A cafe on the corner of Sussex and Liverpool. Sylvester pushes the door.

When inquiries get too much you may make a list and have it safely written with a Biro so you don’t lose it. Electronic devices can be unreliable and need batteries.

Funny how it was found. A spiral-bound notebook. Untitled. Found amongst potpourri, bras, bobby pins and leaking foundation cream. He opens to page three.

“Hello, How are you. My name is Dr Maxwell Broadbent.”

“I’m not sure doctor. I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

“It’s about Sylvester.  Her husband has been in a terrible accident and…”

“Has he really? Good for him. He’s done nothing but harm that woman. What did you say your name was?”

He hung up and smiled at the waitress. “Just a coffee thank you.”

​

​

​