Fenstone’s Flower

Another short story from the hip. Fenstone’s Flower Fenstone was in his favourite pottering spot for a not quite warm, though there be some sunlight day. He had finished washing the Saturday breakfast crockery and cutlery, scraping down the plates of scrambled egg residue and croissant crumbs. This was Peggy and Fenstone’s Saturday morning treat

Not wanting contact

In the corridor Along the walls, a green of mint ice-cream, are plastic chairs moulded grey for sitting in the moment before the cold night coming. Not wanting contact, she slips a piece of paper through the door. — I had an appointment with the renal specialist today. In the hospital corridor I sat with the