Sorry for the bit of lag these days. I've been trying to do more reading than writing. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this. Thanks for reading, have a happy Thanksgiving!
Brian Gaff made a somber gait through the dingy, flyer riddled door of the local backstreet pawn shop. He kept his head low, tucked into the hood of his plain gray pullover – an article of clothing he favored particularly for its common, low key, nature.
He fiddled with something in his pocket, something small, which he turned over again and again in his hand, until the memory of the object rubbed itself into his finger tips. Three quick steps up to the glass counter top and Brian slapped the object onto the counter with a thudded clink.
“Another?'' The wizened shop keep inquired. ''That would make it the third this week,'' she said, tugging at a tuft of hair protruding from the coffee bean mole on her chin.
''Sounds right,'' Brian replied meekly.
''You just find these things?'' The keep asked, now tweaking the mole as though it were a nipple through which her curiosity could be aroused further.
Brian lifted his hand off the silver quarter – the untarnished portrait of Washington gleamed under the mercury store lights. ''I collect 'em – or used to,'' Brian lied. Truth is, knocking off parking meters ala Cool Hand Luke was easy, and no one seemed to understand the true value of certain currency.
''Well, rate hasn't changed,'' the keep snipped, releasing her mole. ''One dollar.''
''This one's different,'' Brian assured her, ''1935, very fine condition. Minted in San Francisco. Look.” Brian fingered the quarter toward the far end of the glass counter.
''Don't mean a lick to me,'' The keep chided through the ash gray hairs fell over her face as she leaned to elbow down on the counter. ''Silver is silver. Don't matter when or where it took a shape.''
Brian, too tired to haggle, put his palm up and curled his fingers inward repeatedly. The keep placed two dollars in Brain's hand saying, “Tell 'yer dad we miss him at church, will ya?''
“Will do, Mrs. B.'' Brian curtly replied, ducking his head to conceal an uncomfortable smile.
The more money Brain could get, he thought, the longer he could stay clear of his dad's bender on the anniversary of his mother's suicide.
Brain left the store the same way he had entered, somber and slow, in no hurry to be anywhere.
''It's a shame 'bout the Gaff boy,'' Mrs. B said to her husband when he came down form the apartment above the store.
''Aye. Damn shame. His father ought know better. Tellin' lies 'bout his mom like he does. Boy's old 'nuff to forgive his pa the truth, but it's the lie spreadin' 'em both thin 'nuff to crack.''
“Aye.”
Big fan of this one. I like the description of the mole as "a nipple through which her curiosity could be aroused further," and you do the dialogue and behaviors of the characters very well. I think this could be turned into something bigger if you wanted to, it has that potential, as far as I'm concerned.
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