Writing Prompt No. 15
There was Michael, the happiest of the party.
Undaunted by the heat, he strode ahead of the pack chatting to the guide asking questions. So many questions. The guide nodded his head politely trying to answer as best he could. Beads of perspiration gathered across Michael’s forehead, slowly dampening the the cap he wore. Every so often he removed it and raked his hand through his hair, shaking it, a little shower of sweat landing on his shoulders drying quickly in the hot sun.
Tom and Anna, the youngest, in love. Spend most of their time with their arms around each other under shade here and there, kissing as if they were about to leave to fight a war.
Elina, middle-aged, what a damning phrase. In the prime of her life. Patronising. Elina, a woman travelling independently, reflected on the tour guide’s knowledge whenever they stopped. She fact-checked everything he said using the guide book she carried everywhere.
Phyllis and Mark. Married for one hundred years. Not quite but getting there. Always finishing each other’s sentences, they were starting to look the same. The only discernible difference was Phyllis’s fingernails which were always painted and beautifully manicured. Today was Hot Pink.
The guide mentioned for the fourth time ‘What a hot day’ it was and sighed as he looked out to sea.
“It’s all very old here,” he said. He picked up his hat which had been whipped off by a sudden gust of wind, and walked on with a wave of his hand.
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