Degraves Noir

I teach a class on Friday afternoons from 2.30 to 5.30. It seems like cruel and unusual punishment for the students (and for me) to sit in our allotted, windowless room for three hours at the end of the week, so I’ve decided Friday afternoons are for exploring.

Last Friday’s exercise was to go to Degraves St, a narrow passageway connecting Flinders St to Flinders Lane. It’s lined with cafes and shops and stretches under Flinders St to the main station via an underground subway. The students have to create maps on which they will plot the stories – real or imagined – they encountered last week.

I decided to create my masterpiece for your delectation, in the style of a film noir (something about the photos called for it).

The End of the Shared Zone

The telephone rang. Meet me at the café, she whispered.

Meet me at the café, she’d said. But which café?

Wasn’t that her bicycle, there, that one …?

He caught a glimpse of a dark head, a flash of scarlet lipstick.

I’ll wait here, he thought. I’ll order two coffees – it was an act of faith.

He waited, but she never came.

Fin.