There’s silence noo. Mibbe he’s gied up. Christ, he wisnae very persistent. The only sound is the tickin ay the cloack oan the mantelpiece. The door...
Ah wake suddenly wae a start, piecin the gither whit wee fragments ay memory ah kin fae the night afore; any wee vignettes ay whit happened. Ah mind...
The sheen ay ma polished dress shoes reflects artificial light fae the street back at me fae the fitwell ay the taxi. Wee chaotic bursts an fragments...