Thursday Thrill: Mystery at the Circus

This week's Thursday Thrill, which is set in my home country's capital city, London, England.

Mystery at the Circus

Piccadilly Circus was packed as always but, through the throng of people, I could see the Statue of Eros less than two hundred yards away. Pausing I took the crumpled note from my pocket, unfolded it and read it yet again.

Be by the Statue of Eros at three PM, I'll be waiting

was all it said.

No signature, no initial and no clue as to how it ended up in my pocket all I did know was that it wasn't there when I went out but was when I had arrived home the night before, after spending a few hours out on the town. I hadn't got a clue who, or where, it had come from, very nearly just tossing it into the bin, yet there was something about the free-flowing way the note was written that piqued my curiosity enough to come so, taking a deep breath, I made my way through the crowd continuously looking around to see if anyone was watching me, before sitting on the base surrounding the statue and waiting.

Five minutes became ten, which quickly became fifteen, before I decided I had waited long enough. The mysterious note writer was obviously not going to show, the note had probably just been a prank and, like an idiot, I had fallen for it. Hell for all I knew the writer could have been watching me, getting some sort of perverted thrill seeing me sitting and waiting for someone that was never going to turn up.

Pissed off, at being taken for such a mug, I took the packet of cigarettes from my pocket, flipped the box open and took one out. Placing the cigarette between my lips I placed the pack down next to me, slipped my hand back into my pocket and took out my lighter. Cupping my hand around the end to stop the wind extinguishing the flame, before I wanted it to go out, I lit my cigarette and inhaled deeply.

Taking the note back out of my pocket I read it over and over again, the cigarette burning down in my hand, before screwing it up and tossing it into the waste bin a couple of feet to my side before reaching down to pick up my cigarettes.

Dropping the burnt out remains of my smoke to the floor I put my foot on it, stood up and was about to slip the packet back into my pocket when I felt someone's hand brush the back of mine.

“I don't suppose you have a spare one of those do you?” The female owner of the hand asked.

“Sure,” I replied, opening the pack and offering it to her.

After lighting it, with her own lighter, she took a small drag and then removed the cigarette from her mouth.

“I wasn't sure if you would come,” she said lowering her head and blowing the smoke from between her pursed lips, “but I'm so glad you did.”

©JSMorbius2013