William Bereza on Unsplash

Picking it up from last week with Clark… this is the SSC&B

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) had been miles away as she thought what had been occurring, partly since she had drunk too much coffee and eaten some nice pastries (both delicious) since the Bartender and Mimi had brought both to the Manager’s Office, but also she’d been mulling since it seemed that she might get away with talking about that certain note.

Fine and dandy, she grinned to herself as she watched Tom taking everything from the Manager’s Office and to the kitchen; he muttered to Mini, explaining that he would make a large spice cake for afternoon tea.

La Raconteuse returned to watch as the tall, thin man had a quick conversation with several people including Ms Strome and her uncle; it seemed that they were going back to the main part of the Bistro, as if some particular boot was on the other foot, as one might say, as la Raconteuse arched one eye up, although the tall, thin man was definitely staying, sprawling in the great new chair.

The Gatekeeper had been surveying the room, listening to what had been said, but then he walked back to the mantelpiece, and turned his back, looking at that mirror.

La Raconteuse joined him: ‘don’t you remember what was there before?’ – ‘sorry, I don’t,’ – ‘but look, you can even see where it was, it was more than a yard and a half longer… you really don’t remember?’

La Raconteuse smiled, ‘that was a painting, I wonder where it went?’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More #SixSentenceStories

William Bereza on Unsplash

‘Well this is a bit of a pickle,’ muttered the red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) as she squeeze between Mimi and Tom on the chaise-longue; a moment later they all needed to stand up, rearrange the pretty throw, since the chaise-longue had had better days, and was rather coarse to sit on it without it’s throw.

It seemed there was going to be some kind of announcement, although no-one seemed particularly interested to move any kind of motion; there was some hint between Ms Strome’s and… what was his name..? – la Raconteuse closed her eyes, trying to remember his name, as she cursed herself.

She opened her eyes, ‘it’s not helping,’ while Tom grinned back at her – ‘you know what I am going to say,’ – ‘hmm, what?’ – ‘at least it’s bigger on the inside than on the outside… you know, like Doctor Who,’ as Tom giggled; la Raconteuse rolled her eyes.

She looked across the room where the Gatekeeper was standing with one elbow on the mantelpiece; she caught his eye, making a quick gesture – nothing more required since they had known each other for long enough.

Moving on, whilst crossing her legs and clasping her knuckles, she looked up to the tall, thin man who was perched on the handsome desk; he glanced around the room as everyone turned to him and stopped talking.

La Raconteuse thought to herself, there would be several options, she was sure, but what course might she take? – and what would he utter?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More #SixSentenceStories

William Bereza on Unsplash

‘Well, that when down like a lead balloon – a total flop… even some heckling, but that’s life,’ as the red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) shrugged her shoulders, ‘no point in whimpering,’ as she muttered while jumping down from the stage.

‘Too radical,’ she thought, as she made her way to the bar, at least there’s a cabaret on next, and the tall, thin man altered the lights and turned up the volume; as La Raconteuse watched him go across the room and beckoned several people, including herself.

La Raconteuse leaned over to grab her big bag while still watching what was occurring; she’d already filled her pretty water flask which had animals around the outside, as she took a swig; she was in a quandary, should she reveal who wrote that note since that person was here?

La Raconteuse met the Gatekeeper just before entering the Manager’s Office, they stood for a moment as he showed her a new logo on his smartphone; ‘oh that’s perfect,’ she said, ‘we can definitely use that in the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro, just love it,’ as she grinned up to him.

However, she’d a little chill in her bones: the seasons were changing – fall in the northern hemisphere and spring in the south – maybe she’ll go somewhere… and maybe soon.

She looked around, should she reveal, or should she let it lie for the moment waiting to see more, as all of them crammed into that Manager’s Office, as the tall, thin man closed the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More #SixSentenceStories