"Why do you think Sebastian pushed you away?" was the trailing end of a conversation I was thankful I didn't hear the start of. I was far more interested in a pair of squirrels dancing around the base of a Sycamore tree at the other end of the park. One of them was wearing a tiny jacket and what looked like running shoes. The conversation holders I mean, not the squirrels. The squirrels were very content with their warm, tousled fur and trainers would only impede the ability to crack nuts and grip branches.

I began thinking that shoe manufacturers were probably suppressing mankind's innate ability to perform tasks using their feet. I quickly made a mental calculation of how much faster I could leave the house in the morning, if my right foot was free to make the coffee, while my hands were turning the toast under the grill. The estimate was encouraging. I made a promise to myself to stop wearing slippers in the kitchen and see what happened.

The couple had now finished talking and decided to punctuate this, by getting up from the grass and leaving by separate gates. I had missed the final farewells and was unsure if they simply had different places to be, or if there had been a falling out. I secretly hoped they were as miserable as me.

The taller one passed a few feet away from my bench and tilted his cap towards me. I managed to muster a retaliatory smile, but he had already vanished out onto the main road. He was probably embarrassed when he realised a stranger had overheard the goings-on. But, perhaps he owned the same slate grey Thermos flask that was positioned next to my newspaper, and was acknowledging our mutual taste for quality.

Absurd! I made a promise to myself to stop looking for human appreciation where there was clearly none. He had stood up to leave, discovered I'd been sat in earshot and the knee-jerk reaction was to place a hand to his forehead and flash an uncomfortable grin. It was as far removed from an invitation to a cocktail party with girls in sleek, black dresses as was possible.

I realised I was grasping at straws sitting here trying to achieve social status. Then I realised I hadn't removed my clothes from the washing machine this morning. By now they would smell ever so slightly of damp. This was incontestably the reason fur was better than a tiny jacket.

The clock tower near the tobacconists started to chime and I sat patiently counting the rings. It was 6 o'clock. Damn. I was supposed to be at Sebastian's for 6. Busy people like me really shouldn't have to rely on public timepieces.

I made a promise to myself to buy a wristwatch first thing in the morning.

Want to comment on this Short Stories? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...