Tomorrow
“Tomorrow”
she said. But that was always what she said to put me off; to deflect me; to
shut me up. I glared at her but remained silent. What was the point of
speaking? But God how I schemed and plotted inside. I had my plan perfected to
a T. But would I carry it out? ‘Tomorrow’ was like a heart beat or the ring of
a bell. And this time I would!
I
threw a few clothes in a knapsack and raided my money box for a pile of coins and
a few notes. Then I waited until she went next door for a neighbourly cup of
tea and I was off. ‘Tomorrow Fuck that for a game of billiards’.
A
bus ride into town then a short walk to the main road that led to the motorway.
I stuck out my thumb and ten minutes later a red mini car pulled over.
“Where
you’re going?”“Manchester.”
“That’ll do.”
I climbed in and we were off. ‘Tomorrow’ – bollocks it was today and I was free; free at last.
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