Bulgaria was the last to fall. They even had hotel bellboys, for fuck’s sake.
Robert knows too much. At first light, I run the bath, yank out his Pain Threshold chip and throw him in the water.
‘You can’t expect a crushed child on your watch to go without consequences.’
After more than two weeks of 50-word stories, I thought I’d combine a couple to expand into a longer piece.
If you are interviewing grieving parents in their cramped Victorian living room, try not to knock a photo of their dead teenage daughter off the mantelpiece.
The vacuum whine woke him every morning.
She met him once in the communal hallway to apologise, her son lingering behind a haircut.
Unused swings wobble in the breeze. An disheveled man, can in hand, chases a pigeon, staggering, burning fury in his bloodshot eyes. The taunting bird hops in a large circle until, bored, it hauls itself […]