Heartless (315 words)

I didn’t expect to see her again so soon. But there she was, looking alluring in a tight fitting toad-skin trouser suit. Princes Street was crowded with Bank Holiday shoppers, but I could have sworn she looked right at me. I was in full musketeer’s regalia, topped off with a broad brimmed hat and fluorescent green plume advertising my allegiance to the Leith nation.

“Temptations the name” I cried. “Sinning’s the game”.

Perhaps she didn’t hear me.

I unsheathed my telescope and quickly found the gap between her evening gloves and short sleeves, revealing her magnificent elbows. The cute little bone protruded from the back of the enticing fleshy hollow, which was covered by the merest suggestion of downy hair. The ancient Greeks believed that each object on earth was a pale shadow of its ideal, somewhere in heaven. This, surely, was the celestial elbow, to which all other elbows aspired.

In a heartbeat she turned on a stiletto heel and disappeared into the throng. I leapt aboard my trusty camel, Farage. From my high vantage point I could see her banana skin beret bobbing ever further away from me, until eventually all trace of her disappeared, if she had ever been there in the first place.

I checked in the saddle bag. Amidst the arsenal of small arms gleamed the AK47, primed and ready. I turned Farage’s head west and set off at a gallop for Tynecastle. As we picked up speed, I overtook giant-condom clad cyclists,  number 26 buses hunting in packs of three,  taxis with drivers giving jolly two fingered salutes, and finally, at a full gallop, million dollar tram cars.

I felt clear headed and completely in control of all body parts, from my rippling biceps to my cerise painted toenails. All body parts, that is, except for my heart, which had been irretrievably lost.

You are however in full command of your absurdist tendency. It’s funny too. The only bit that threw me was the ‘little bone (that) protruded from the back of the enticing fleshy hollow’. I imagined a bone sticking out of the flesh which on further reading I am (almost) sure you don’t mean.

This could rival your Glasgow material.