In the Lidl on the Kettering Road, night-time, brightly lit, I see them. The boy, tall and gawky, his limbs too long for his Nike-swaddled body. The girl, a head and a half shorter than him, in matching grey; her dark shiny hair pulled back into a low pony, exposing...
You don’t have to coffee me up to get decent pickpocketing out of me. I operate between seven and eight a.m. on the Manhattan-bound J train. I choose my targets with careful consideration. It’s difficult to describe what I’m looking for. It’s an attraction, an...
Toby is on fire. He’s got a killer lasagna ready to pop in the oven, a big chunk of fresh parmigiana just screaming to be grated, and a couple of bottles of half decent South American Chardonnay lurking in the fridge. All Jessica’s absolute faves lined up for the...
“That guy was a prick.” The jersey rippled in the breeze as it hung from the City Hall eaves, shrouding the Roman Columns that stood guard on either side of the double-doored entrance. Bureaucrats shuffled underneath, tilting their heads to avoid the double-knit...
Ricky’s room was dirty, not messy with laundry or paper but actually dirty, I mean like a cream-colored rug speckled with brown dust and yellowish stains, and the walls had fingerprints and shoe marks and there was a hole patched with a crumpled ball of tin foil and...
It happens as I’m quietly contemplating suicide in the Uffizi Gallery. I’m certain I’m not the only one. It’s hot and stuffy and everyone’s skin is pushing and pulsing against everyone else’s skin in an effort to glimpse Bacchus. We are like cattle, except cattle...
