Difficult to justify my behaviour this evening as the kerb grates against the back of my head. Difficult to keep my dinner down amidst the spinning lights and the belches of warm, yeasty air from the nightclub doors. The coldness of the road is beginning to reach through my jacket as people crowd around.
‘You alright, mate?’
‘He didn’t mean nothing by it…’
‘You ain’t gonna press charges, are ya?’ Continue reading “Street Service | Short Story”