THE BUTTON by Kay Rootes

I’m always in a rush and leave things to the last minute. I had to catch the 8.03 for Charing X if I didn’t want the last warning to be put into effect should I be late again. But as I got into my car, the essential button on my skirt came off, and I couldn’t find it.

I rushed up the slope to the station entrance clutching my umbrella in one hand, skirt and handbag in the other. There was a Ticket Inspector on that day, and as I fumbled for my season ticket, the skirt fell to my ankles. He didn’t bat an eyelid.

Somehow, I managed to heave it up again with the minimum of exposure, and made for the train about to leave. I did get in, but my skirt didn’t, and as the train pulled away I watched it become an ever smaller pile on the platform.
I decided to face it out, and let my black slip cover all deficiencies.

Unfortunately, I had left it on the back of the chair in the bedroom in my hurry to get dressed.

As is customary in the UK, no-one smiled, made a comment or even acknowledged they had seen me inching skirtless in my pop socks towards the nearest seat. “Glad I caught the train,” I said. “I’m taking part in the London Marathon. Thought I’d save time and put on my gear so I’m ready for the off!” At my age, you can get away with anything.

About highamwriters

A group of recreational creative writers and if you ask us nicely we will let you publish some of our work
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