This is something I wrote when I was younger, and I'd tried to cut it down so I could enter it in a contest so it's not as well written as I would like. I think too much time passes in this story so it's quite fast paced. (I didn't end up entering it in the contest, as I wasn't completely happy with it). I haven't quite mastered the art of writing concisely. Nevertheless, I wanted to share this story and feedback is welcome. Please don't be too nasty to me straight away and let me know if you want more short stories! It's inspired by the (few but enough!) people who I see looking scornfully at the homeless people I walk past in London every day.
Rubbing her temple, Zora spun around in her office chair to look out of the window and glared jealously at the people enjoying their lunches outside. She turned back to her computer, sighing, willing time to go faster. ‘Lousy job, lousy lunch’, she thought bitterly as she threw away her badly wrapped, soggy cheese sandwich. Hearing the phone ring she picked up the receiver.
“HRST Communications, how can I be of service?” she said into the phone, instantly businesslike.
Without saying a word, she slammed the phone down when she heard a boy inquiring about the cost of a 1950s Barbie doll and muffled giggling in the background.
Three hours later, Zora was walking briskly away from the unkempt office block where she worked. Upon reaching the high street she relaxed, the lights from the shop windows and animated chatter from the coffee shops soothing her.
After pausing momentarily to look wistfully at a pair of shoes, she attempted to make her way through a crowd of people that had gathered around two girls and a thin, poorly dressed man. She jumped when someone grabbed her arm, and turned to face a dark haired girl.
“I’m right aren’t I? He shouldn’t be lounging around here all day!”
“He’s no right to ask us for money, the dirty man!” the other girl chimed in.
Unwilling to get involved, Zora tried to pull away. The brunette only tightened her grip.
“You don’t agree with us?!” she said, surprised.
“No, I...” Zora began. Turning to face the man she felt rage boil up inside her body as she thought of her own badly paid job. ‘He doesn’t even try and get a job! He has no right to our sympathy or to the change in our pockets!’
“No I agree. I think he’s a waste of space”, Zora said quietly. “Pathetic”, she said harshly as she turned away.
His shoulders slumped. ‘Why should today be any different?’
* * *
Lynette and Chelsea collapsed on Chelsea’s bed with the various bags of goods.
“I’m a bit bummed that I couldn’t buy the shoes”, Chelsea said as she stood up, stretching.
“Yeah, but at least you bought the black dress”, Lynette said. “When are you planning to wear it?”
“Daddy’s got another dinner party. That boy’s going to be there so I asked him if I could go. He said yes obviously, so probably to that”. Her voice wavered slightly. A few days ago she had discovered that her extravagant lifestyle depended entirely on her father getting a new client at this dinner. This was his last chance. Their last chance.
Not that she would ever tell Lynette this. Their friendship extended no deeper than clothes and boys.
Mistaking the waver in her friend’s voice as nervousness, Lynette started speaking to reassure her friend. “He absolutely will adore you in that dress. You’ll look gorgeous”.
“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty nice.” Chelsea said to herself, smiling dreamily at her reflection in the mirror as she thought of the boy she had met two weeks previously, immediately forgetting all her woes.
“How was your day?” Chelsea’s mother asked, knocking on the door as she entered.
Both girls simultaneously burst into loud complaints about the quality of service in the many shops the entered and the audacity of the homeless man for speaking to them.
* * *
Zora collapsed on the sofa in her flat. Tossing another set of letters in the bin, she relaxed and stretched her legs out, switching the television on as she kicked off her heels. ‘Another wasted pair of shoes’ she thought as she looked at the shiny black shoes and compared them to the shabby office block she worked in. She sighed as she heard the phone ring and stumbled to the hallway.
“Hello?” she said, annoyed.
“Miss Hardy? It’s me.”
“Who?”
“Your landlady”, the voice replied coldly. “I’m calling about the rent. I didn’t get last months and this month’s is due tomorrow. Can you pay? Because I’m afraid that if you’re not able to pay it I’m going to have to put the board back up. I have bills to pay too.”
Zora hung up quickly. Heart pounding, she walked back into her living room, drawing the curtains before sinking down into the sofa, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
*****
2 weeks later
Chelsea continued to pack up her belongings into cardboard boxes. Tomorrow they were moving to a cramped flat, miles away from the grand house she had grown up in. Unfortunately for her, they had no other choice. There was nothing left.
On the other side of London, a vagrant wrapped his worn out coat tighter around himself and shivered, leaning against the walls of the bus shelter. ‘One day’ he thought, ‘I’ll be out of this mess’. Hearing footsteps beside him he looked up and opened his eyes. It was a man in his pyjamas carrying a young girl on his shoulders.
“Excuse me”, the man said. “Would you like to come in? Only Anisah here saw you here from her bedroom window and it’s freezing out here. We live across the road.”
“We were going to have hot chocolate. It’s snowing. That’s why”, Anisah piped up helpfully.
He looked up and saw that across the street there was a door open with a light shining out of it.
“Will you come?” Anisah spoke again.
“Yes”, he spoke through the lump in his throat. With the help of both Anisah and her father they walked across the road towards the light.
Huddled in the bushes near the same bus stop, Zora, dressed in all she had left, watched them.
