neelis was returning from his friend's house non his new cycle.He stops at a tea stall to have a cup of tea. as he sips his tea ,he was surprised to see a boy of his age desperately trying to steal his cycle...........
develop a story in 150-200 words with illustration from the given prompt
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Answer:
The big man at the end of the bar is sweating. He holds his head low over his
double Scotch, but every few minutes he glances up and out, behind him,
towards the door. A fine sheen of perspiration glistens under the strip-lights.
He lets out a long, shaky breath, disguised as a sigh, and turns back to his
drink.
‘Hey. Excuse me?’
I look up from polishing glasses.
‘Can I get another one here?’
I want to tell him it’s really not a good idea, it won’t help, it might even put
him over the limit. But he’s a big guy and it’s fifteen minutes till closing time
and, according to company guidelines, I have no reason to tell him no, so I
walk over, take his glass and hold it up to the optic. He nods at the bottle.
‘Double,’ he says, and slides a fat hand down his damp face.
‘That’ll be seven pounds twenty, please.’
It’s a quarter to eleven on a Tuesday night and the Shamrock and Clover,
East City Airport’s Irish-themed pub, which is as Irish as Mahatma Gandhi, is
winding down for the night. The bar closes ten minutes after the last plane
takes off, and right now it’s just me, an intense young man with a laptop, the
cackling women at table two and the man nursing a double Jameson’s waiting
for either the SC107 to Stockholm or the DB224 to Munich – the latter has
been delayed for forty minutes.
I’ve been on since midday, as Carly has a stomach-ache and went home. I
don’t mind. I never mind staying late. Humming softly to Celtic Pipes of the
Emerald Isle, Vol. III, I walk over and collect the glasses from the two
women, who are peering intently at some video footage on a phone. They
laugh the easy laugh of the well lubricated.
‘My granddaughter. Five days old,’says the blonde woman, as I reach over
the table for her glass.
‘Lovely.’ I smile. All babies look like currant buns to me.