The Test

The Test

Here's the thing. I disliked her right off the bat, didn't trust her tan. Had pretty much set on failing her, even before she got in the car. I hate it when people say they 'need' a coffee. What's there to need? I have to get in the car with these people who need coffee. I have to take to the streets with someone who lacks something they need. A folding car cuts. Her tan just looked like it didn't belong and the coffee thing came out before she had even said hello.

The morning of the sixteenth and Bream felt an assortment of emotions as he watched his mother leaving the house earlier than she had done in months. He hadn't heard her leave. He'd have missed her if he hadn't been looking out for the post. She turned to his window and seeing him, she waved. She still looked to him like a jigsaw version of what she had before his father's death.

She scrambled though her handbag, looking for her learners and ID. Couldn't stand the way she tarted herself up, despite being fifty three. Her fags spilled, some in the bag, some on the floor. "Look love, do yourself a favour and go out and smoke one of those. She looked at me; grey, watery eyes from a brown cracked face and slapped her stuff on the counter. "Is there a coffee machine here? I really need a fucking coffee. "Well, April¦ I said, picking up her papers. "Nice to meet you too.

He'd taken in her tits first. The last balding hurdle of bureaucracy had taken in her tits first. Through the chills of nervousness, she couldn't tell if she minded or not. He stared at her contemptuously and held out a pudgy hand. The handwritten sign requesting ready papers meant he didn't have to shatter his aloofness with what was surely a working class accent. The office air seemed to congeal as she rummaged around her handbag. Some of its content fell onto the grey, slap-on floor. She handed over a fistful of paper and then blacked out.

It seemed logical to Bream that she learn to drive. His father, Dr. Phineas Pearl, had done all the driving. Since his death, nearly three years ago, she had hardly left the house. His mother's reparation had seemed to be finding tracks with her wanting to drive and he had spent time and savings encouraging her to do so. He sat, unmoving at the window, waiting for her to return and take him out for a drive.

I usually start them with a parallel park. Separates the can and cant's quickly and saves time. She led the way out and got into the passengers side. She was a right state. I walked over to the window and looked in. "You're in the wrong seat love! Next, she put on a pair of dark sunglasses and looked at her watch. "Phineas! Bream! she screamed, scaring the crap out of me, barely three inches from her nose. "Stop fucking about you two! We'll be late!