Short Stories

  • Tea and biscuit days

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    He’d been dead a long while now of course, your dad. But that didn’t stop you thinking about him. Looking at the photo, it was easy to bring him back. Easy to remember him. Crisp cream trousers, with a neat, stylish pleat. Cool white shirt, long sleeved. Braces and belt. Black leather. Brown sandals with…

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  • Freedom

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    He closed his eyes and imagined the sea. The smell was wrong, the dryness, the sootiness of the air, it was all wrong. But if he closed his eyes and just listened, then the sound, the sound was just right. The sound of the sea. He stood still underneath the tower block, eyes firmly shut,…

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  • The Portfolio

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    I’m creating a portfolio. Day by day, bit by bit. Have been for many years now. What I do is this. I visit the train station and I sit and wait. I’m looking for expressions. There’s one in particular I have yet to find. I want to capture that look in a person’s eyes when…

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  • Homecoming

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    Here he comes again. It’s eleven thirty, the time when he comes in for his tea. He orders it with lemon. On the menu it’s listed as Russian tea but no-one really knows why. “Do they really drink it this way in Russia?” he asked the first time. “I don’t know. I suppose they must

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