Grimace. Squint. Grimace. Escape. — #100
He walked down the high street with three thick volumes of Granta under his arm. He had stumbled upon a whole crate of them in a charity shop he frequently visited. They had been priced at ninety-nine pence each or three for the price of two. He had carefully chosen three copies which he felt would look good on a coffee table or bookshelf and purchased them at the till.
The middle-aged lady behind the counter took a moment to discern whether the books were being purchased or donated. Once the direction of the transaction had been ascertained, she fumbled with them for a moment to work out their price.
She was perpetually confused. He felt as if he was somehow taking advantage of this women by buying three books for one pound and ninety-eight pence. He handed over a two-pound coin.
“Keep the change,” he said with a smile. A saint at work. Generosity embodied. What a man this man had become. As he walked down the high street, he began to grimace as the noise of the traffic eroded his emotions and he stifled the urge to cry. He clenched his eyes shut for several seconds at a time as he walked, trying not to look like an escaped schizophrenic.
The books were not calming him as much as he had thought. Sensory overload was escalating, winning. He had to find his car now and drive out of the town. This was his goal. His life depended on it. He grimaced again, wrenching the muscles in his face in an attempt to distract.
Grimace. Squint.
Grimace.
Escape.
This is my last post to 100 Naked Words. Thank you for reading. I now look to open a new chapter in my life. You can enjoy reading the past chapter below. Let it stand as a testament to my existence, perseverance, and as a glimmer of my attempted positivity.
