I died last Friday; well, I almost did.
Last Friday at 1:30 in the afternoon I died. Well, miraculously I’m not dead. I was loading the shopping cart onto the forklift at the front door of my building, and I don’t know what happened. It was a freak accident. The cart might have backed up and pushed me back, and I stepped on […]
He hated going bald and old/ Douglas Stuart
He hated going bald, hated getting old; it made everything hard work. He adjusted the mirror lower so that he couldn’t see the reflection of his bare head. He found his long, thick moustache and sat absent-mindedly stroking it, like a favourite pet. Under it his spare chin wobbled. He tilted the mirror back up. The Glasgow streets were shiny with rain and street lights.
