The Novel - The Ozone Café, Short-Lived

Short-Lived (contd)

For the next half-hour, he drank the remains of the bottle. Then he slowly rose to his knees into the pale blue morning. He peered into the damage, jiggling and removing the loose bricks as best he could. He ran his hands along the remaining wall, the mural intact - not one crack. How could that be? he thought. An extra addition, yet it was solid, not like the rest of the rendering towards the back steps.

Looking over the courtyard wall, he could see the storm's havoc along the beach and past the hotel. The Esplanade was a mass of litter, the sky clearing over Scarpe Bay and the thunder's guts just a rumbling now on the Heads. He waved to Bill who straddled a ladder, straightening his store signs. 'You okay? he yelled.

Bill pointed to the beach, 'Me boat's got a lovely how-you-do in the hull, she cracked on the rocks. What about you?'

'We're okay, lucky the pole missed us.'

'Building okay?'

'Yeah, yeah, fine, no worries.'
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