by Sarah-Clare Conlon
We swapped over our coats and bags in the pub.
I used to be fatter and she’d been thinner, and people often mixed us up away from the confines of our desks; in the lift, say, or at the colour photocopier. 349 more words
After his wife chucked him out for shagging the waitress from the American-style diner, Bruce missed his books. He’d spent every night for the last twenty-odd years sitting among them, absorbing the smell of the ageing paper, casting admiring glances at the colourful spines he’d arranged like a Pantone flip chart, lifting them down off the shelf and gently rubbing his thumb over their gaudy covers, over the girls and guns. 235 more words
MATALAN BOXERS LARGE. MAIL. MKT SYNCONOGEL. CAR WASH MON? RENT ON-LINE. NEW HEMAROID CREAM. GRAHAM 2PM. P.O. CREDIT CARD. CHECK BUG ZAPPER.
This rather specific inventory was found about five years ago on the pavement outside Matalan in Stockport. 1,258 more words