My latest story on the Storgy website, with the stunning photography of Tomek Dzido as inspiration.
Stepping from the bus onto the estate, I smell bacon frying. It’s years since I left, but nothing’s changed: the houses, clean and neat, overlook characterless gardens, and the street itself is airless; stagnant with marriage, kids, invisibility. The bus drives away, and I’m abandoned with my rucksack, heavy on my back.
I look at the house. Karen’s car is parked in the shared driveway. She offered to pick me up from the station, but I said no.
I see a bike, flung carelessly, to the right of Karen’s car, and I laugh, a small, indiscernible sound.
‘Seems to me, Charlie, you think the world owes you a favour.’
‘Your bike. On the drive.’
‘Dad – I wasn’t…’
‘Money Charlie. Hard-earned cash. Bike’s aren’t free, you know?’
‘You can’t look after anything – ’
‘Dad – I…
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