Tweeprose: ‘A Strike Of Infatuation’ by A. N. Gretly (for @MarwaElBehairy)

Creekwell City was very different at daytime, but the gloom of the night seemed to linger upon the washed up façades of tall brick buildings, and the ragged streets like vivid memories of sorrowful pasts. The streets were void of night creatures, and they were replaced by those who fed on sunlight. Up and down the streets they went, all dressed up in morning suits, holding folded newspapers, and leather bags. One of those morning creatures was Bill Cohen, a youngster who worked as a bagman for St. Lucia Bank. He always wore a  brown suite, and walked around with a sense of importance, swinging his hand back and forth extra high just to make sure that everyone could see the brown leather bag that was handcuffed to his wrist.

On this particular morning, Bill was transporting a relatively large amount of money from the bank’s headquarters at Kings Street, to a smaller branch on 62nd Street. He picked up the bag, had a bank official handcuff it to his wrist, and then took a cab to 62nd Street. He reached the branch too early because the secretary told him the manager was not there yet; Bill was asked to wait a bit, so he decided to go have some breakfast at the diner across the street.

A wooden sign hung over the diner’s entrance that read ‘Rose’s Diner’ in bold red and white letters, with a painting of a pinup girl on the left, bending over and winking an eternal wink at passersby. Bill pushed the door, and it opened with a ringing sound announcing his entrance. The morning sun shone through the diner’s display window, giving it a warm comfy air. The seating arrangement consisted of booths with couches of red and white leather. The place was empty save for a bulky man who sat by the counter smoking a cigarette, and an old man having breakfast at a booth close to the restroom. Bill Cohen took a seat by the display window so he could keep an eye for the branch manager’s car, he placed the brown leather bag next to him on the couch.

“What’ll it be, Clarence?” A soft voice asked.

Bill turned towards the sound, and his jaw dropped. Standing on red high heels right in front of him was a real life version of the pinup girl advertised on the sign outside. This long-legged, pearl-skinned, hazel-eyed, redheaded goddess stood there looking at him as she tapped with her pen on a notepad. She shifted her weight from one foot to another, which made Bill stare at her hips. He turned his eyes and looked at hers. Something exploded in his chest, he felt this lightness in his belly, and a tingle at the back of his neck. Bill smiled and touched his brown leather back, thinking he could impress her with how important and trustworthy he is. The waitress shifted her eyes from Bill’s to the bag, and then back at him again.

“My name is Rose,” She smiled “What’ll it be, bagman?”

“Name’s Bill Cohen,” He said merrily “I’ll have some scrambled eggs with a side of bacon, miss.”

“Alright then,” Rose said “Give me a minute or two.”

“Take all the time you need, Rosie.”

Rose smiled at him once more, and turned on her heels. Bill stared at her bottom going up and down as she walked away. She went through a door behind the counter, and got out after a few seconds. Bill kept watching her, studying her slight curves, and her large breasts, which almost fell out of her blouse when she bent on the counter to talk to the bulky man.

A few minutes later, the old man who was at the booth by the rest room got up, and staggered to the counter where he placed a few bills then walked away.

“Your rent is up, Marv.” the bulky man said without turning.

“I’ll pay tomorrow, Eddy.” Marv said, and walked outside the diner.

Bill Cohen watched the old man make his way down 62nd Street towards a liquor store where he stepped in.

“Here you go, Billy,” That tender vice said and made him turn his head “Scrambled eggs with a side of bacon”

“Oh, thank you, Rosie,” Bill said “Everything looks delicious.”

“Do you want some coffee with that, sweetie?”

“That’d be perfect, thank you.”


Rose placed the platter of eggs and bacon on the table in front of Bill, she produced an empty mug from her white apron, and set it next to the plate. She went to the counter and returned with a coffee pot, and filled his mug. The pinup girl placed her white palm on Bill’s thigh and looked at him deep in the eyes. Bill felt a twitch in his crotch, and a blast of heat in his face. He felt her run her hand up as she moved closer to him, her face almost touching his.

“Need anything else, lover?” She whispered.

“T-thank you.” He stuttered.

“Goodnight then.” She smiled.

Bill Cohen did not understand why Rose wished him a good night, he also did not understand the sheer pain that suddenly erupted at the back of his neck, that pain that made everything go so very dark.

After a period of time he was not aware of, Bill began to hear voices again. The smell of grease hit him in the nose, and made him feel as if there was a layer of cooking oil on his lungs.

“Did you have to hit’em so hard, Eddy?” A familiar soft voice said.

“Why do you care?” A hoarse voice replied.

“I don’t, Eddy, you know that, I just don’t want you killing someone in my diner.”

“Fine, I’ll take care of him outside.”

“Good, thanks Eddy, I love you.”

“I love you too, Rosie.”

Cohen felt a large hand grabbing him by the hair, he wanted to scream, but a lump in his throat prevented him. He was dragged through a doorway and into an alley. Bill looked up and saw the bulky man standing over him, his eyes caught a glimpse of the red-head standing behind the monster. Eddy grabbed the brown bag, and broke the handcuffs with his bare hands.

“Rosie, please.” Bill begged through his tears “Please!”

But Rose just smiled at him, and leaned her head on Eddy’s mammoth shoulder. The bulky man raised his foot, and landed it right in Bill Cohen’s face.

Now you see it, now you don’t.

About Ahmed Gretly

Ahmed Nader Gretly. Construction/Site Engineer, fiction writer, poet, psychopath, researcher, a book addict, and a daydreamer from Cairo, Egypt. Currently doing Construction Project Management, MSc, at Heriot-Watt University, Edinburgh.
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