The pink glove lay on the ground, almost covered. It caught my attention, not being what you would expect to see on an average Saturday night down The Dog and Duck.
Orchid Street was in the restaurant quarter so whoever owned it might have been at some kind of celebration. Unless it had been lost in Rosalie Street, some of their legal firms had rich clientele so I am led to believe. It could have blown here, given it was only round the corner.
I didn’t see Mark coming until we collided.
‘That’s mine, thank you’
‘I’m busking as a wardrobe assistant for a bit. Rita Gabor is having a meltdown over the loss of her glove. I’ll tell her you found it, free tickets for opening night for sure. Must rush, we’ll do brunch and catch up at the weekend, I’ll ping you’
Before I could speak, he was gone. That was Mark, in, hit ‘em up, gone. I loved him!