The Fifteen Minute Novel is a novel written fifteen minutes at a time with each week day’s section starting with the sentence from the previous day. At least it is attempting to be a novel. For now I am just aiming at one continuous story, worked on for fifteen minutes each day. Started Friday January 1st, 2021 (in case you want to search for the beginning. I can’t wait to see where it ends up. It could be good, or it could be a mess. We’ll have to see. For now, here is today’s fifteen minutes.
Day 44: Despite claiming to need an hour, buy the time the coffee pot finished its brew cycle and was ready for James to dispense a cup, Carson was knocking on his door.
Despite claiming to need an hour, buy the time the coffee pot finished its brew cycle and was ready for James to dispense a cup, Carson was knocking on his door. James felt his nerves grow as he moved to open the door for his agent. Carson stepped inside.
“I was just having a cup if you are interested,” James told him.
Carson nodded. “That would be fine.”
They crossed the room to the kitchenette and James took out one of the mugs he purchased the day before. It was part of a set of dishware. It came with four of everything, including mugs but he didn’t think he would actually ever need to have more than one in use at a time.
James filled both mugs and took out the bag of sugar and gallon of milk, setting them both on the table. He set out two spoons. They each took a spoonful of sugar from the five pound bag and added a drop of milk from the gallon. As the table was small, James returned the milk to the fridge and moved the sugar to the counter top before sitting opposite Carson and stirring his cup to make sure everything mixed.
As he moved, Carson studied the few changes. In the living room the changed included the newly covered couch and the pile of items he had yet to deal with, books magazines and a few plastic bags.
“I see you went shopping,” Carson said.
“I needed a few things.” James tapped the side of the plastic spoon on the side of his cup, letting the few drops on it splash back into his cup before setting it down on the table.
“And one of those things was a car,” Carson said.
James took a sip of his coffee.
“It was,” James replied.
“We monitor the new identity and when the insurance and everything else was filed electronically we saw the details. “
“I see,” James said. He wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with that, but he knew the dealer wasn’t going to let him leave the lot without some form of insurance and has no choice in getting it. “Is it the insurance you mind or the car?” James asked.
“Depends on the type of car,” Carson replied. “I told you there was a bus schedule.”
“It is not a good schedule.” James told him. “There was nothing in the agreement I signed that stated I couldn’t buy a car.” James replied. He felt the twitch of irritation, but suppressed it for the moment.
“What sort of car did you buy?”
“It’s the old Studebaker in the parking lot,” James told him.
Carson blinked. “That old wreck?”
“It runs, rather well actually,” he felt the need to defend the Studebaker.
“There was nothing in your file about auto mechanics,” Carson said. His face was still creased in frowns as though both surprised and annoyed by the gaps in his records.
James guessed that anyone accustomed to having details appear like magic on their computer screen from all of their many sources might find it somewhat disconcerting to find missing information.
James sipped his coffee.
“You are going to do a full restoration?” Carson asked.
“At the moment I bought seat covers, an air freshener and a few tools to keep it running,” James said. “There isn’t space for more here.”