A Past Yet to Come
Theo saw the sign by the door, approached and studied the facade. Ficlies? Ficly? Who cares? It’s back! Immediately, he opened the door, and stepped inside.
The place was crowded. I’m late. Some faces looked unmistakeably familiar. An crooked nose here; a sexy smirk there. Beautiful pens and ink-stained wood everywhere. Feels just like home.
Something was missing, and he sought it out. Somehow, his search was fruitless. I need some inspiration, he thought… but none came. Hmm… some things just aren’t right around here. He grinned. It really is home.
Theo ordered a drink, scanning the free tables. A large, wispy arrangement in the middle of the floor. Too exposed. An efficient desk by the washrooms. No character. An oak roundtable set in a corner, a good view of the room, and a colourful history writ small in its patina’d surface. That’ll do.
Theo took his pint, paid the silver, and made way for his chosen haunt. I’ve changed, he considered. I wonder if anyone will recognise me?