The hospital wards held a distinctive smell. Disinfectant and desperation and decay. In the tea room it was less so. In the tea room it smelled of biscuits. It smelled of apple pie and powdered custard. He was sat in the tea room. Everywhere he looked, people looked ill. Or sick with worry. A sort … Continue reading Fast & Slow Educations.
the glassy stranger, front of stage, growing thin; conjure, silence, from the barber a handkerchief, a rabbit shape, an anecdote, a fringe.
Had he never misplaced the mojo, he may, he reasoned one evening, have been able to keep a keener eye on his star. But, he sensed, it had fallen. He came to this late. Drew scant detail. Reason, as such, eluded. He dreamed a nearfuture pocket of his being patted. Mojo? He looked up in … Continue reading Dim Star, Mojito & Mojo Rising.
nickreeves 