Lem
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Twelve Plastic Chairs (2/2)
A big brash man with a deep organic tan clumps in, shod in work boots. He drops his bulk into a mid-row seat with a force that makes its legs screech...
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- 304 reads
Twelve Plastic Chairs (1/2)
The messages keep piling up in my inbox, a smattering of love across social media. How are you doing? Hey, let’s Skype! Saw this and thought of you...
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- 586 reads
Foulweather Friends

It is six minutes to twelve when I arrive at the psychiatric outpatient clinic. It is almost mid-December. The florist at the end of my street is...
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- 2091 reads
The Vessel Overflows

Sadness lives in my shoulders. I have long housed it there, as worry chose the stomach for itself. There isn’t much of me, my mortal shell. Five feet...
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- 1603 reads
THIRTY YEARS YOUNG
When I got back to Frankfurt after the Christmas holidays, I sat down at my desk – only the second piece of flat-pack furniture I’d ever assembled,...
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- 1322 reads



