I brush my teeth and think about the United Kingdom Independence Party. Mrs. Crew most definitely voted for that lot. She deserved what was coming to her. Her skin was very orange, between her folds gathered white pith. The sort of skin flakes that taste sour and accumulate on skirting boards. How? How does the…
Mrs. Crew lived in a bungalow by herself on Croombe Road. By herself, with a parrot. I had seen the parrot through the window. I heard it ringing, ring, ring, like a telephonic device. I heard it through the letterbox. On Tuesdays Mrs. Crew was visited by a nurse. From the nurse I learned Mrs.…
I think artichoke hearts are my favourite food. That’s not a lie. The way they crunch, and are not crunchy. They make the perfect topping on toast. White. Not brown. I just cannot stand brown toast. The colour. Brown. It reminds me of my darkest secret. A secret I can’t say. A secret so dark…
(2) Ruth Ortis lives alone at sixty-seven Sallymount Road. Winding steadily down life’s last corkscrew her brain’s passengers sit patiently and wait for the end, or at least this is what Sally Ortis said to me earlier in the week over a quick, thick milk Latte with four sugars. Sally said something along those lines. She…
Seal Matches 