The Landlord
I let myself in on Monday evening with the spare key on its green plastic tag. Three months of unpaid rent had passed, and the smell in the hall already carried what waited on the other side of the door. and there you were, in the centre of the room, suspended from the rafters, toes
The Hosepipe
I needed petrol – 5 litres to get me there and the rest for the process. A small price to pay, running on empty, the urine already cold on my winter jeans, stinking on my frozen legs, a dreadful trembling fear. the hard stench of black tobacco fills my nostrils, my last few cigarettes, another