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Jane assumed that no one would follow her. Not to this end of town; and certainly not at two-o-clock in the morning. Jane was wrong.
She had carefully picked out a red cocktail dress, only three shades or so from the color of the wig she wore. She had applied her make-up such that anyone who spotted her would think she was nothing more than a local cocktail waitress heading home for the evening.
She had seen Phillies Diner only once; the wall sized windows showed the outside world a glimpse of a downtrodden worker’s free time. It had been full of dock-workers and out-of-workers when she had seen it, but she was relieved that it was near-empty at this time of night. She looked warily at the well worn brass handle on the bright yellow door. Her hand felt as though it were made of lead as she lifted it to grasp the handle. Pulling the door open her nose was assaulted by the overwhelming combination of stale coffee and sweat. The man behind the counter--his once-crisp white uniform and garrison cap now forever stained by coffee and cigarette smoke--gave her a smile and a wink as she stepped inside. She walked across the room to the end of the bar, her shoes seeming to stick to the floor as she went.
She ordered black coffee; it arrived in a dirty cup that looked as though it had been dropped a few too many times. There were chips around the rim and the handle had been glued back on. As she took her first sip she had to force it down, lest it make its way back out. The flavor reminded her of old socks and anchovies. So she set the cup aside and instead chatted with the waiter. She paid no attention to the diners single other patron--an older man in a worn grey suit and dusty old cap.
The small bells attached to the diner’s door announced the arrival of another customer. Jane smiled demurely at Steven. He was striking in his custom-tailored blue suit and new fedora. His dark eyes scanned the diner, looking for anything out of place, or anyone who might be watching. Satisfied that he was safe here, he took his cue and sat beside Jane. They never knew they were being watched. Always watched.
- by Cowgirl Lynsy |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 07/20/2008 |
- Skip
- Title: Always Watched
- Artist: Cowgirl Lynsy
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Description:
This is a writing assignment I did for English 101. I got a 96% and wanted to see what you all thought. The main idea was to write a narritive about the painting "Nighthawks" by Edward Hopper. Enjoy!
This is my original work... so copywrite-me 2008 - Date: 07/20/2008
- Tags: nighthawks watched
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- Reference Image:
Comments (4 Comments)
- Jounouchi_1 - 02/16/2009
- wow... this is better then mine! I did something like you did in my english class also and i posted it here as well... but this is great...
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- AlekB - 07/20/2008
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Very deep, very real, and very good. It's definitely one of my favorites now.
[ Maybe you could check out my stories someday smile I'm definitely subscribing to yours now. ] - Report As Spam
- jahrock - 07/20/2008
- this is great, it makes me FEEL disgusted about the place and it makes me wonder what part of town they're in and WHY. Very amusing for me.
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- Julia Dream - 07/20/2008
- Oh, I like it. You don't spell things out or hit us over the head with what's going on, so it leaves people to make up their own story - I personally visualized it as a secret affair. Lovely. (:
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