Fiction

Rory

“You could’ve bought it from the vending machine, sir. Everyone does that nowadays. I’m afraid I do not have any change with me.” Milling about the platform of Connolly station, I was replaying, in my mind, the encounter that had happened a few minutes ago at the ticket window. The man was right. I should’ve… Read More

In Search Of Something

The long walk to this bar had been about hope. Not that a few drinks could flush down the dysphoria, but they could proffer her a getaway from it. She’d peered hard at everything on the way as if trying to make notes for a memoir. It wasn’t just “milling about in the streets of London” this time…. Read More

Mother was here.

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