He’s got a hangover and a half. Eyes look like piss-holes in the snow. Staring out the window like he’s got stuff on his mind, but I bet there’s nothing going on in his head except him wondering when he can have his next drink.
“Tickets, please.” Continue reading “Inspecting”
“So we’re on this date, right, fancy restaurant, posh wine, candlelight so dim she can’t see my face – we’re onto a winner, is all I’m saying.”
Tumbleweed. This crowd is the worst.
“Then the waiter comes over and brings us a menu. And I open it, and I’m looking through, and it all sounds lovely. Posh shit, but lovely. Tiny things on massive plates, with green stuff smeared on the side like baby poo. You know the sort of stuff.” Continue reading “Stand Up, Please”
Teeth chattering, fingers stiff, skin pale. The freezing water is taking its toll, but the shoreline is in sight. They’ll be safe soon enough. Continue reading “Wreck”