The Friday Shop

It’s raining, a constant hiss in the background. The air in the kitchen is tense. The windows steamed up. The paper’s late. I don’t blame the lad on such a filthy day, we’re the only one on the street that still has it delivered.

Nan’s flustered. Won’t to go to Morrison’s before checking her stars. We can’t leave her here, not after last time.

Ever the problem solver I offer to kill the cat so we can read it’s entrails, but then a sullen adolescent shoves a dripping Mirror through the box and the cat is spared.

For today anyway.


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