The Waiting Room.

After some time, a bearded, balding, overalled, paint spattered, coot man - stepladder and duffel bag in hand - came into the low level buzz of the waiting room. He clumsied himself and his chattel through the door, allowing a brief rush of oily, night cold air to enter, too. The gust, flustering the newspaper … Continue reading The Waiting Room.

Starlight Conversation.

They sat on the doorstep at the back of the flats every evening filling the jam jar ashtray and trading hushed nothings. Autumn, she sat with her knees drawn and clasped. She stretched her legs long before her, silk pouring from them, on June evenings such as this one. They had been joined by another … Continue reading Starlight Conversation.