Post by markcohen on Mar 23, 2010 12:29:01 GMT -5
Mark roamed tirelessly through the giant throngs of people that crowded Times Square, his messenger bag slung over one shoulder, his scarf wrapped firmly around his neck, and a cup of coffee in hand. He hadn’t been in the Loft since early that morning, and was running solely on caffeine alone.
The hundred Roger had given him had slowly turned into a measly twenty dollars over the course of the day,- he had his camera fixed, plus all the coffee he’d bought- and now the bill was crumpled in his coat pocket, just waiting to be spent wisely.
The best thing to do would be to spend it on some cheap, easy to put together meals that would keep him, and probably Roger (the man had been coming over a lot lately) going for the next couple of days.
He continued with his walking, waiting for something to catch his eye, when Mark soon saw a Brazilian couple fighting, the girl pleading with her eyes to her boyfriend, take me back, take me back, I'm sorry. He quickly pulled out his camera with his free hand, but before he could even start filming, the young woman caught sight of them. She began yelling at him in rapid Portuguese, and Mark quickened his pace, and turned his attention elsewhere.
Mark lowered his camera, letting it hang limply in his hand as he looked around for a corner store he could step into for a few moments. He then bumped into someone-hard- and Mark’s grip instinctively tightened on his precious equipment, but it slackened on his coffee, causing the cup and it’s contents to fall to the ground. The lid came off, soaking through Mark’s thin shoes up to his socks and a couple of other people’s feet in the lukewarm brown liquid.
“Shit...”
The hundred Roger had given him had slowly turned into a measly twenty dollars over the course of the day,- he had his camera fixed, plus all the coffee he’d bought- and now the bill was crumpled in his coat pocket, just waiting to be spent wisely.
The best thing to do would be to spend it on some cheap, easy to put together meals that would keep him, and probably Roger (the man had been coming over a lot lately) going for the next couple of days.
He continued with his walking, waiting for something to catch his eye, when Mark soon saw a Brazilian couple fighting, the girl pleading with her eyes to her boyfriend, take me back, take me back, I'm sorry. He quickly pulled out his camera with his free hand, but before he could even start filming, the young woman caught sight of them. She began yelling at him in rapid Portuguese, and Mark quickened his pace, and turned his attention elsewhere.
Mark lowered his camera, letting it hang limply in his hand as he looked around for a corner store he could step into for a few moments. He then bumped into someone-hard- and Mark’s grip instinctively tightened on his precious equipment, but it slackened on his coffee, causing the cup and it’s contents to fall to the ground. The lid came off, soaking through Mark’s thin shoes up to his socks and a couple of other people’s feet in the lukewarm brown liquid.
“Shit...”
Sorry it's taken me so long to reply))