The Day The Thought Struck

A Story by La Mouche
I was walking through Northumberland Boulevard with Helen when the thought struck me. It was a rainy Saturday morning and we had just had a lovely breakfast at the M&S Kitchen. “Don’t think about it just now,” she said, leading me into Thornton’s. “You don’t look it anyway.” But I went on, “I am going to be forty in three years…” Helen walked in her usual cheery way to the back of the shop and reached for a marzipan cake. I followed behind. “My nan likes this,” she said handing a tenner to the lady behind the counter. I smiled, then the thought returned to envelope me again like a cocoon. “Three years,” I mumbled. “What?” asked Helen; her eyes fixed on the lady’s hands, which were skilfully wrapping up the marzipan cake in rich burgundy paper. “Three years,” I carried on gloomily, whilst Helen took the marzipan cake and placed it in her handbag saying, “My nan is certainly going to love this!”

We left Thornton’s and made our way to the City Library for our writing group. We were late, as usual, but also as usual, the first to arrive. Sean joined us a few minutes later. “It looks like it is just the three of us today,” he said. “Yep,” Helen replied. In the next ten minutes, we talked about a lot of things; so many I cannot recall them. And we talked about birthdays; of course, because it had recently been Helen’s, and her boyfriend Chris had got her the mini laptop she wanted. So it was suggested, when the moment to choose a theme for the writing exercise came, that birthdays was the theme, that the maximum number of words were 750 and that we had twenty minutes. I took on the task straight away, not without a sunken heart. Oh well, at least I knew exactly what my story was going to be about. It took me ten minutes to write it and the number of words was 345, counting those in the title.
The End

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