Monthly Archives: September 2015

162. The Ten

Kirky says, “Fancy doing a ’10’?” I say, “Alright.” I’ve been riding my bike a lot over the winter, long hauls across empty moorland roads in the Yorkshire half light, fast commutes in perpetual darkness, morning and night, broken glass … Continue reading

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161. The Woman Through the Wall

Two seventeen in the morning. I lie awake and stare through the darkness at the slit of light on the ceiling that drifts with each passing car, listening to the screaming and shouting coming through the wall. My wife whispers, … Continue reading

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160. The Nureyev of the NCP

“You still typin’, Luci?” “What the fuck do you mean, Scorcher?” “Well, every time I come in ‘ere you’re either typin’ or shovin’ that mouse about.” “It’s my job, Scorcher. It’s what I’m paid to do. Sit on my arse … Continue reading

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