Character Description – July 2014

By Lucy Cameron

Character Description – July 2014

Potential characters for my next novel


The rain pours down the sheet of glass.

In the droplets he sees his own tiny face reflected back at him over and over again. Hundreds of tiny faces. Hundreds of words that bounce around inside his head. Still, he says nothing.

‘What? Cat got your tongue?’ she spits. She pulls his chin to face her. Ensures he cannot avoid her eye. Their faces are so close they nearly touch. Mascara runs down her cheeks. She won’t care and neither does he. She should look like a clown, laughable. It twists his gut that he still finds her beautiful. After all this she still makes his stomach turn. She snorts. A vicious sound.

‘Makes a bloody change.’ Her spit tingles where it hits his skin. The heat comes off her in waves. Still, he says nothing.

‘Screw you,’ her voice is low. The landlord’s eyes are on them. A shake of her head. ‘Screw you.’ Just a whisper. A slight crack in the final word. She waits a beat longer than needed. A turn on her ice white stiletto. The thump of the door as she exits.


He orders another coffee. Milk. Plenty of sugar. The rhythmic clink of the spoon against ceramic. It is late but he has no desire to sleep. His face is now a blurred reflection in the window. His eyes cannot focus on himself or what’s outside.

He picks absent- mindedly at the scar tissue on his left cheek. A habit, hardly aware he does it anymore. His surgeon will be pissed off. His surgeon will have to find him first.

In his pocket his phone vibrates. It won’t be her. Not her style. Not yet. Maybe never. There is no one else he wants to speak to. Plenty of people will want to speak to him. They can wait. They only have words now he is gone.

The coffee is still bitter.

‘Alright mate?’ A shadow has appeared at his side. He has no mates here. The shadow belongs to an old man. Beer stained clothes, crisps in his long grey beard. The old man lingers at the edge of the table. Pushes the sugar bowl towards him.

‘Mind if I sit down?’

He does mind. He minds very much. A shrug taken as acceptance. The scrape of chair legs on cheap tiles. The thud of the pint glass on the wet wooden top.  Hours of mundane conversation stretch ahead. But the old man just sits and drinks his beer. Stares out at the rain and says nothing.




  1. John says:

    You did a good job with that piece well done :)

  2. Lucy Cameron says:

    Thank you, much appreciated

  3. Carolyn says:

    Really absorbing few lines – Drew me in immediately.liked it.