Contemporary short fiction, poetry and more

Marlowe comes to Leeds

Chapeltown is a lonely place for a single man on a Tuesday night, especially in November when the weather isn’t exactly conducive to a carnival mood.  I strode into ‘Cantor’s Fish Bar’ with as near to an appearance of coolness as I could manage, which wasn’t much because the splinter of Chinese shrapnel I took in my left buttock while serving in Korea had suddenly woken up and started on a little jaunt.  Thanks, Mao.


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