‘Balls, balls – it’s all a load of balls!’
The thoughts had tumbled through my mind last night, tripping over themselves, but never stopping. It had felt like fever, but my toes, hanging from the bottom of the bed like so many chilled grapes, had told a different story.
The darkened room had hidden my face from the mirror, but I’d known that the beard was there, protecting the world from lies that always gathered behind my forehead like excrement in a collapsed drain.
Maybe that’s why I cou...
Published on February 21, 2017 15:03