Why is he in here?
Tanned and toned.
Sitting there, tall and erect.
A galleon, sailing high and proud, surrounded by all the old wrecks.
I cough loudly into my hankie and he slowly turns his head towards me.
A name is called and the old man by the radiator shuffles slowly towards the blue door.
Then it is me.
Movement forces out another cough.
He’s watching now, with a look that shows no sympathy.
Just that stare of contempt that only the young healthy ones can perfect.
Published: Vine Leaves Press
