The Accident

Drake hobbled in the restaurant, making his way directly to the order queue. His eyes stayed on the floor as he shuffled ahead. He kept bobbing his head and whispering to himself.

“The usual, Drake?” Katelynn asked as he approached the counter.

“Add one of those – those-” he said, pointing to their cookie counter.

“Ooh, feeling adventurous today, are we?” Katelynn said, adding an oatmeal chocolate cookie to his regular spinach cheese sandwich and tomato soup. She smiled as she slid it across.

Drake snatched his parcel. She knew he disliked being talked to, yet every morning, she stood there, flashing her misshapen teeth at him. He bit his lip hard to shove down the abuses. He had been given his last warning for misbehaving with the staff and this was the only remaining café in the vicinity where he wasn’t banned. He threw crumpled notes across the counter, watching Katelynn scramble for them with some satisfaction.

Drake stepped outside and took quick strides towards his left. Once he was sure he was outside the café’s line of vision, he punched a wall. His knuckles scraped and flecks of blood oozed out.

“Stupid bitch! Smiling, gloating, bad teeth bitch!” he said, his punches landing harder and harder. People around him quickened their pace and left a wide berth. They had all learned to ignore the local ‘crazy old fella’.

A kick to the fire hydrant dismissed the last traces of Katelynn’s face from Drake’s mind. Shockwaves coursed through his body as his foot reeled from his outburst. He opened his bag and cursed. Some of the soup had spilled with all the jostling. He slapped his head.

He carefully wiped the spill with his shirt.

“I need to go home. Need to feed. Before it gets cold. So cold,” he said. He put his hands in his pockets, his fingers fiddling with its contents. A faint click of metal washed over him. He gave a ghost of a smile, the shivers of anger receding.

He made to cross the road. It was the volume of the horn that jolted him before anything. Tyres squealed against the asphalt as the driver of a red Mercedes tried to swerve and avoid the maniac who was crossing on a green light. He failed. The car rammed into Drake.

His body flew into the air. His food containers popped open and splattered the shocked onlookers in red soup and confetti of cheese shavings. His neck snapped as he fell hard on the ground. A collective scream arose from the crowd. No one dared to go check but everyone knew that the local mad man was gone. Someone informed the police. An ambulance arrived and carried him away. The Mercedes was towed and the shaken owner was whisked to the police station for his statement. By afternoon, the soup and sandwich mush was cleaned up. Katelynn posted a ‘Will miss you, old guy’ on her social media and that was that.

Until the body’s clothes were rummaged for identification. A young rookie thrust his hands into one of the several pockets of the worn-out cargo pants and found a gold bracelet. It had five delicate charms dangling from it – a paintbrush, a horse, a shoe, a book and a tortoise.

Deep below the city, in the sewers, rats played on Drake’s dirty mattress. They tore into the cover and squeaked as they found a pile of shiny treasures. They sank their teeth in, immediately losing interest as it was hard and clunky.

They scurried to the juicier option which was chained to the adjacent pipe. She kicked them away and screamed. They retreated but stayed close, their eyes glinting in the shadows.

She whimpered, pulling at her shackles, her stomach gnawing with hunger.

*All images generated using AI*

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