The Shop Door

In strolls this man, he is on a mission. His light blue denim jeans are snug around his bulging waist, fastened with a brown leather belt, buckles shining. His faded black T-shirt sports a creative pattern of white paint, splattered in a random fashion. Glowing from the inside, the room elates as he walks across the green lino floor. He chats away as if we have been friends for ages, talking about every happy situation under the sun. Optimisim shines down upon him like a golden light and the feeling remains as a satisfied man walks through the shop door, with his bacon, cheese and tomato foccacia.

Miss city girl walks in or rather, strides in, as she too is on a mission. This mission lacks the passion of my last customer. This woman doesn't warm up the room, rather, turns it cold. She wears a bright yellow knitted cardigan, and her blonde hair is flipped over her shoulder as she surveys the room. Her eyes are narrow, the Dior sunglasses on her head hold the whispy parts of her hair off of her face. The essentials: water, gum and a paper. That's all a girl from the city needs when she finds herself in a place like this. Fine by me i think as she takes her items and leaves, not a smile, only a quick 'see ya'.

The bowling duck walks in, shuffling her white shoes across the floor as her walking stick taps along. She has her visor on and her big black sunnies that cover half her face. She smiles as she grabs the paper, taking forever to bend down and up again. She refuses help because an old duck such as herself is still fighting fit, for an old duck of course. Her wrinkled and speckled skin covers her body, as she reaches a shaking hand into her black leather purse. The correct change spills out onto the counter. Smiling broadly, she waddles out the door, laughing at life as it laughs back at her...