Grave Concern

I recommend this one first - it's very short!

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When I emerged, blinking in the watery sunshine, my old partner was on the pavement waiting for me. He looked older than he had the night before. Maybe the shitty lighting in my office was more flattering than I thought. It had rained the night before. The sound was what finally lulled me to sleep in my office chair. The ground was wet with it, and my feet were getting damp. This, plus the kink in my back, made me crankier than he deserved. "Thought you said you weren't available," I said. "I'm not. I've... errr... Let's just say I've got somewhere to be. I'm just here to give you some advice." "Oh? And what's that?" I started walking and he fell into place beside me. "Two things, really. First of all, don't mention to Gail that this was my idea, okay? She... Let's say she won't be happy about it." "Okay... And the other thing?" "She's going through a tough time. Treat her with kid gloves. And tell her you're sorry for her loss." Shit.

"I'm sorry to hear that." I hate how wooden the platitude sounds coming out of my mouth, but I obey social convention, and keep going. "Was it anyone I know?" There's silence for a few paces. Oh god, Mickey, don't be crying. I don't have the emotional maturity for that shit. I glance to the side to check. "Mickey? Mickey?" He's gone. Again. Bit rude. I push open the door of a local cafe and order a coffee I have to count out pennies for. I sip it while I wait for a cab I can't afford.

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