A certain lack of continuity on this flyover in Lantau…
Doraemon x 10
Craig wiped the smudges from his metal-rimmed glasses on his navy shirt and squinted out the double-pane window onto the street below. Each day the parking regulations change which side of the street is permitted, so illuminated by the morning sunshine and echoed by birds chirping, his squint relaxes into annoyance with a sigh as he sees his car has been towed. Again.
“Great way to start my day,” he thinks as he grabs his copy of the curious incident of the dog in the night-time, keys, and heads out the door into the pouring rain. The sky has been spitting out buckets upon buckets of water, soaking him to his core. He knew he shouldn’t have worn a white shirt today. Fiddling for his keys, he beeps his car twice to unlock and slides in. He always found the Morrison Minis attractive, and despite being a man of 6’1”, he never minded the graceless entry and exit. Driving it reminded him of a grown up’s go-cart. Looking over the rim of his Ray-Ban sunglasses, “Shit,” he checks his watch, “How is it already 1830?!” As summer approaches, the days are getting longer, and the sun stays out well past 1900. He remembers how unproductive he was when he would leave the studio at 1500 to darkness and go straight to watching serial television.
Arriving an hour and a half late, Craig’s door is opened by the valet who is shaking his head.
“You can’t park this here, man.”
“Don’t got no space for an Escalade. Too big.” The attendant points to the lot where cars are double parked haphazardly. No love for an SUV. Craig gets back in the car. Dome Epais is playing on the radio. Picking up his Nokia phone, he dials his colleague Trent, who he had planned on meeting.
“Where have you been?!” She demands in an accusatory tone.
“Jeez ma, I just spent the last hour driving around trying to find this address. You know how it is for an F-150.”
“Yeah yeah. Did you remember to pickup that purple ottoman?”
“Of course, my vision is perfect, it’s in the back.”
He arrives at his mother’s boutique off Hilltop Crescent, brimming with sweat. He wipes his brow as the sun beats down on him relentlessly. Reaching into the back of the sedan, he pulls out an antique Tiffany lamp, which depicts some kind of amphibian.
“Looks lovely, thank you sweetheart.” His gay best friend Todd has been trying to find one like this for ages, and Craig just happened upon it in a thrift store for 30 quid.
“Oh, no.” Todd’s face turns squinched as if he had eaten a sour candy.
“What?” Craig looks around, and sees the street is clear.
“Euhm, what car did you say you drive?”
“You know this Todd.”
“Today… You’re only allowed to park on the north side of the street. I think you’ve been towed.” Craig’s shoulders drop in exhaustion.
“Gotta read the signs darling. Why don’t you pop in for lunch and I’ll bring you round the impound after.” Wearing only his gym clothes, Craig agrees, and steps inside the cottage for a quick breakfast bite.