I noticed it because the answer to twelve across in yesterday’s crossword had been Shinkansen.
Such small coincidences can pepper a life with interest. I looked at the content,
which appeared to be an announcement of forthcoming events at said venue.
Sandwiched between two artistes I’d never heard of was a listing for Friday. Tonight.
There was the name of a bandobviously, I’d never heard of themand there, in smaller font, was the musician!
I dropped the paper, picked it up again. No one had noticed.
I ripped out the advert, folded it carefully and placed it in the inside pocket of my shopper.
This was it, the opportunity I’d been waiting for. Written in the stars, delivered to me by fate.
This bus, this morning... and tonight. I looked up the venue when I got to the office.
It seemed that he would be playing at 8 p.m. I needed to shop for a party—and now a gig—outfit after work, which did not leave much time.
Judging by the website, The Cuttings seemed to be the sort of place where one would feel most comfortable when fashionably attired.
How, then, would I manage to be there for eight, dressed and ready? Ready to meet him?
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