Original Writing: The Scene at the Club

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Original Writing: The Scene at the Club Her gaze meets yours from across the dance floor. You coolly scan the place while sipping your drink as if it didn’t register. Aware of her stare you heartily laugh at a joke which barely deserved a smile. You look back to that spot; nowhere to be seen. High heeled footsteps are heard from behind you, they’re getting louder, they’ve stopped. Your stomach jolts, either that chicken vindaloo doesn’t agree with you, or she’s behind you. You exchange cool pleasantries. Sara; works in media. She’s a looker, wait until the lads see her. You gave her your number, smiled and turned on your heels. The cat gets the cream. Until she pops the question, the dreaded question. You try explaining it, that you’d remember it or write it on your hand; no use, she insists. Insists you put her number in your phone, if it can be called that. You reluctantly extract the machine from your pocket. You need two hands just to hold it, it was so big let alone attempt to break the code needed to unlock the damned thing. One look at the phone and she conveniently remembers she forgot to feed “Becks”, her goldfish and is gone. You quickly stash the phone in your back pocket. You’re left there. Middle of the club, alone and with vibrations from your back pocket so alarmingly loud, that bouncers come and warn they “do not allow such behaviour in this establishment.” Cost of the ancient phone: £200. Cost of entry to the night club: £20. Cost of preserving your status, getting the girl and avoiding such subsequent embarrassment: a mere £79.99. For £79.99 we have the answer to all your problems. He’s sexy, slim and size not an issue, a phone after your own heart you may say, the new Mokia 6230 is your perfect partner. Your new pocket pal is a handy 103mm x 44mm x 20mm or as we like to put it small enough to fit in your pocket, big enough to get

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