By Darren Davies

 

 

 

 

The Present

 

“The rain hasn’t stopped since the machines took control” said a young man sat at a table in a packed coffee shop. Elizabeth, sat across from the young man, whom five minutes earlier had dashed into the busy coffee shop to escape the downpour outside. Relieved, she managed to grab the last table with her coffee. A young man had approached asking if he could join her. Feeling guilty about sending him back into the downpour, she accepted. The young man sat down then, after a few seconds delivered his peculiar statement.

Elizabeth eyed the young man, her face displaying a mixture of confusion and shock. “Excuse me, what did you just say?”, she demanded. Believing she must have misheard what was said. “I’m sorry, I’m coming across as a weirdo” replied the young man. “My name’s Jack” he said, while also offering his hand across the table. Elizabeth reluctantly offered her hand too. As they shook, she looked at him with confusion and suspicion etched over her face. “It’s nice to meet you Elizabeth” he said.

Elizabeth, looking bewildered and scared snapped back her arm, her head twisting sideways in every direction, looking for a familiar face that would confirm this is some sort of practical joke being played on her. Without one in sight, she snapped back angrily, “How do you know my name? Is this some sort of joke? Why did you say that about rain and machines?”. “Elizabeth, I’m sorry. I’ve had this planned for so long. It’s not going how I intended” Jack said defensively, desperate to put her at ease. Elizabeth wasn’t at ease. In fact, she was scared and angry, “Had what planned? What is going on?”, she demanded. Jack replied with another meagre attempt to calm Elizabeth and get her to listen to what he had to say, “I’ve wanted to meet you since I was five years old, but my parents wouldn’t allow it. I must tell you something that will sound unbelievable to you, but you must hear it”. Elizabeth, disturbed by the whole encounter got up to leave, “This isn’t funny, this is a sick joke. Either I leave, or I scream at the top of my voice that you’re harassing me” she retorted. Jack, getting desperate, had one last chance, “It’s about John, John Davies, your fiancée who died twenty-two years ago” he exclaimed. Elizabeth pondered the words that had just come out of Jacks mouth. She stared at him, her face a mixture of shock, hurt and anger. “You’re sick in the head, stay away from me” she said. She grabbed her coat, bag and fled the café.