PHOTO PROMPT © Al Forbes
Lou peered through the net curtains, watching the street through a mesh of swirls and flowers.
The automobile was still across the road, an alien thing of brass and leather, rubber, smoke and noise.
‘It doesn’t run on coal?’ she said over her shoulder.
George was reading the Sporting Life, the pages spread across the dining table as he took notes on the day’s runners and riders. ‘No, love. Something called petroleum.’
‘Petroleum?’ The word sounded like a pomade you bought from the barber’s – something that would leave greasy marks on the furniture. ‘Filthy thing. They’ll never catch on.’
The Sporting Life was a British newspaper which was largely known for its coverage of horse racing – those ‘runners and riders’ George is so keen on.