Its dark here. You can hear the swish of rain, see the cars come up the ramp, their red taillights trailing across the concrete. Lines in the cement remind of a ploughed field. The car park is hard and functional, surrounded by iron, concrete.
A man in a grey is suit looking at the pay machine, shaking his head. Over his suit is a crisp cream coloured mac, his beard is trimmed neatly. He steps back, frowns, blinks, reads the instructions on the machine, feels into his inside pocket, looks around him. He takes out his credit card, reads the instructions again, looks around him again.
Ollie has been waiting for this moment. He has come to the car park every morning this week to catch James before he goes to the office. He looks longingly at him, loving the clean cut to his chin, determined and focused. He feels confused, angry at the shame James has caused him. He thought they had an understanding, obviously James did not share that.
James finally collects his card from the machine and steps back to return the ticket to the dashboard. Ollie puts the gear into reverse, and rams down the accelerator, he screeches out of the parking space, the car curves out. Ollie aims the car straight at James.