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My Story – Natalie chapter four

September 30, 2016

Straightening my dress suit I checked my reflection. Not a hair was out of place, sot a wrinkle in my shirt, collar straight as were the clear pane glasses covering my eyes. Last night was last night and this morning was another day. I shifted to the back-up apartment and contemplated what had gone wrong. Had the boy told the man about me staring into the window. Was he the reason I had been shot at? No matter. I would remain alert on the off chance the hunter had actually been after me and vowed to continue my mission.

I did think about it. Whether the incident meant I needed to pull out. But I had never left a mission uncompleted. I was not about to start now. If someone WAS after me they would have to get a lot better. I would still win. I always did.

Sharp heels clicked as I made my way to the coffee shop where I would “bump” into the mark. It was three minutes before she was scheduled to arrive. I would be through the line but still waiting for my beverage. Stepping into the little shop I glanced quickly around. Everything was the way it had been every day for the past two weeks. The stained and chipped bar, the rattling coffee machine. The counter containing colourful pastries. Two men behind the counter. John and Gerry. Sounded like an ice cream company. I placed my order and moved to the window. Today’s customers were all regulars. I’d seen them over the two weeks surveillance. Miranda, night nurse, coming in for a hot chocolate to help her sleep. Mark, the janitor from the local preschool, cappuccino for him, baby chino for his little girl. Terance, CEO of Insure-Me, wanker, short long black. And here she comes. The painter. Millie Price.

She ordered her weak, black with one and stepped back. I shifted slightly. She stepped on my foot.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you.”

I held up my hand. “Not a problem.” My name was called. “Beth!”

I stepped around Price and retrieved my coffee. I let me eyes drift back to Price. I widened them slightly. “I know you.”

Millie Price looked at my face, searching for mutural recognition. She wouldn’t find it but would pretend as though she had. “Hi, um, I’m sorry, Beth was it?”

“Yes, from the gallery.”

Price flushed a light red. Her eyes dropped.

I pressed a little closer. “You probably don’t remember.”

“Of course, Beth, It’s lovely to see you again.” Her name was called and she took a step forward before backtracking. “Do you have time? We could sit, chat a little.”

“I would love to,” I told her with a smile.

And that was that.

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