Aisha's phone buzzed next to her, the noise breaking her concentration. She glanced down at the screen, her right hand still holding the mascara brush.
"Shit," she muttered, her pencilled-in eyebrows raising as she saw the time on the display. She was late.
She glanced once more in the mirror, tilting her head slightly. Her eyeliner was maybe a little uneven, but not to the point where anyone would notice, especially once they got to the club. In a rush, she started to bundle essentials into a small, sparkly bag. Keys, check. Purse, check. Lipstick, check. It all just about fit, though she had to tug slightly to get the clasp to close. Downstairs, she grabbed a plastic bag from under the sink and unceremoniously plonked a bottle of rosé wine into it.
Thank God she knew how to walk in heels, she thought to herself, as she left the house and heard the Yale lock snap shut behind her. Zahra would never forgive her if they missed their bus; she'd been longing for an invite to predrinks at Sam's flat for months, ever since they had their first tutorial together. Everyone knew Sam, and everyone who knew everyone knew that Sam's was the place to go for predrinks, provided that you were lucky enough to get an invite, of course.
A white van stopped to let her cross the road. Aisha waved a hand to the driver, a burly man with stubble, a buzzcut, and hands like dinner plates that rested gently on the wheel. He nodded in response, leaning back into his seat with an air of self assurance. Aisha could feel his eyes on her body as she walked past him. She called Zahra as she continued her march towards the bus stop.
"I'm almost there." She tried not to sound breathless. "Just up the road. If the bus arrives just try and stall the driver a bit."
"Sure," said Zahra's crackly voice in her ear. "Get a wriggle on, though, won't you?"
"Yeah, yeah. See you in a sec."
As she hung up, Aisha heard a car horn behind her. It was the white van. She rolled her eyes to herself and continued walking.
The van was getting closer, and the driver honked again. It was approaching her and slowing down. She sped up instinctively, regretting both hanging up the phone and putting her keys inside her bag.
"Oi, love!"
She fixed her eyes on a spot in the distance, keeping her head straight. Don't look back, she told herself.
"Excuse me!"
It was the driver, calling to her again. She could hear the van's engine, and in her peripheral vision saw the van creeping along the opposite side of the road, matching her speed. Her tongue felt dry in her mouth. Her pulse was thumping in her ears.
"Hey!"
Trying not to show her fear, she turned her head towards the van. The driver had lowered the window and was leaning out of it slightly.
"Sorry, darling," he said, gently this time. "I didn't mean to frighten you. The thing is, this fell out of your bag."
He held her purse up to the window. She went to step towards the van to get it, then stopped herself. What if it were a trick to get her closer to the door?
As if he had read her mind, the man made an awkward noise, clearing his throat. "Uh, catch?"
He threw the purse lightly towards Aisha. It went straight through her fingers and landed on the floor in front of her.
"Thanks," she said, as she bent down and picked it up.
"No worries. Have a good night, love."
"You too."
The man in the van revved his engine and pulled away. As he drove down the street, she heard him call back to her from his still-open window:
"Nice arse, by the way."
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The Key of Life
लघु कहानीFEATURED STORY! Seven stories, seven lives, seven notes that can be played to create a melody. Neither major nor minor, but a little bit of both. This anthology features seven stories about love, life, and the ways in which people's lives touch on...
