The buzzer sounded and he was off,  not so much like one of the greyhounds he frequently blew the small amount of money his wife handed back to him out of his wage each week, no not like one of those, more like a man with a purpose, even a mission, and this one wasn´t going to be secret for much longer.

In no time at all in was outside Hotton Courier, out of breath, a bit sweaty, but determined to see it through. He went into the pocket of his overalls pulled out the prepared paper and entered the newspaper office through the heavy old fashioned revolving door.

“Shit, fucking shit!” he muttered to himself, the lass on the desk was a bit younger than him, and smart, it was too late there was no turning back, his purposeful stride through the revolving door had thrust him into full view of her, and already she had smiled and asked him what she could do for him.

“Errrr” he faltered, “I want to put an advert in the paper please.”

“What section is it for?” she enquired.   

“Errrr, i´m not sure, Personal s I think” He was sure, he just knew what she would be thinking as soon as he said Personals, and sure enough she was.

“Lonely Hearts?”   He could feel his face going red, and he was starting to regret this, but it was too late now.

“No, not lonely hearts, just personals please” 

“Is that your advert there? Pass it here and I´ll type it in and then read it back to you. Our charges are on the display there if you´d like to read them.” He didn´t read them, he couldn’t, he had to study her face, he had to see her reaction to the advert, not that it would change anything,  it was as if he wanted the humiliation, perhaps he´d grown used to it in his marriage. 

The bitch he thought, as her typing slowed and he noticed her trying hard to suppress a laugh, there was the tell tale sign of slight convulsions, and her hand was raised to her mouth as if preparing to cough. 

Composing herself she finished, and prepared to read back the advert……..

N.O.