You Can't Miss It by Danni Hudson

As the car slowed, Willie felt in his pocket for the envelope that nestled within the folds of his coat. 

“OK mate? This is it, wanna hand?” 

“No thanks,” Willie croaked. “I can find my own way...” He slipped through the doors of the building. Inside, Willie spotted a bright neon ‘ENQUIRIES’ sign. He shuffled towards it, reaching into his pocket to extract the now, rather creased envelope. 

“Can I help you?” 

Willie squinted towards the voice. “Yes, I’ve an appointment at 9.30,” Willie answered, passing the envelope. 

“Oh yes, sir, go down the corridor and carry straight on - you can’t miss it!” 

Willie thanked the receptionist, pocketing the returned envelope and as he walked down the long corridor the walls cocooned him in a warm cylindrical tunnel. His footsteps echoed and ricocheted off the walls as he walked and his mind wandered as the corridors came to a cross-roads. Which way now, he thought, left, right or straight on? He walked for another 50 yards or so and came to a door, which he went through, only to find himself outside again. 

A shadow fell across Willie’s face and he looked up in bewilderment at a man in overalls. “We’re lost aren’t we?” surmised the man. 

Willie fumbled in his pocket for the envelope, passing it to the man. The man read the sheet, then held out his arm, “’Ere, cop hold, I’ll show you the way.” 

“Thank you, I must’ve taken a wrong turning, Don’t know how I could have missed it.” He followed the man and within minutes they arrived at another desk. 

“’Ere’s one that nearly got away - e’s gotta appointment at 9.30,” the porter said. 

“Ah yes, Mr Godfrey, we wondered where you’d got to, you’re here for your cataracts aren’t you?” 

Published in Issue #20

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