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Rated: E · Short Story · Biographical · #1139068
What can happen in an ordinary café
A briefcase story
(based on a true story)


A man is walking up and down a beach. Well, a perfectly normal situation if you imagine him on a summer beach. He is dressed in an swimsuit. Well, he wouldn’t win a beauty competition dressed like that. The odd thing about all this is the black briefcase in his hand. A black shiny with a nice handle you say? Yes.
The beach is under and around a cafĂ©. The time is one hot Croatian summer in the afternoon and the cafĂ© is packed. People are hiding under the wooden roof sipping cold drinks, cold coffees or whatever they like at this time. A new customer has no chance to find an empty chair simply because there isn’t one.
All would be fine hadn’t it been this strange man. After some time people notice him. Why is he carrying a briefcase? Everybody wants to know one thing: What the hell is IN there?
My parents ate sitting with their friends in a corner, just next to a wall whose bricks are shining in the sun, competing the strong sun. They are enjoying last drops of coffee. Having already paid they are wondering whether to go for a swim in a pool or to in the sea.
Suddenly they notice a man walking up to them. They are watching him put the briefcase on a low wall next to them in a silent moment. You can read the question flying in the air: What’s he doing? The answer is suddenly clear: There surely is a bomb in the briefcase and the man is…
Four pair of eyes look at the briefcase on the wall, four pairs of eyes look at each other, four bodies rise and their legs lead them out of the place in a rush.
My father’s friend dares to look back. He cannot believe his eyes. The man is walking to the table quite happily, a girl by his side.
My parents also stop. The man is now sitting down, putting the briefcase on the floor next to the table. There’ s a smile on his face. The smile of a winner.
Well. Can you imagine a better trick to get an empty chair in a café?
© Copyright 2006 Tanya The Rhymer (sucharova at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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