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The Auction
Member rating: No Rating | Words: | Submitted: Thu Jan 13 2005
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The Auction The rain battered down upon the small, shivering figure that sat in the corner of the bus shelter. It had been sat there for three hours now and was starting to lose all hope. This dishevelled figure was of course, me, and it was I that had been sitting in the tiny, incorrectly named bus shelter, for in this particular place there was no hope at all of indeed gaining shelter, waiting for the past three hours for a bus that seemed as though it would never come. It would be just my luck that on this particular day, when I had already lost the keys for my mothers car and spilt my Muller light yoghurt all over my best jeans, that I would have to wait in a remote bus stop, waiting for a bus that seemed doomed not to come, to go to a auction in a remote...
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