When The Man Comes Around

My neighbour is a changed man.

Don’t get carried away now. He’s still mass-producing atrocious postcards. Ninety little cardboard soldiers a month carrying the hope of his salvation. And it’s been slim pickings lately, or so he says. Only a 30 Euro shopping voucher and a small fridge. It’s that last prize he’s come to tell me about as I notice the difference in his breath.

Lethal Weapon

I’ve learnt that it’s best to say goodbye to friends that came over for a visit while they’re still in my flat. Within that brief sliver of the time-space continuum that is the hallway shared with my neighbour, you never know what might happen.