Category: Fiction

If Frank was an animal, he’d be a sheep.

I heard about the secret of Glasgow’s Gold after starting an office junior job in the City Chambers back in ninety-seven. They called me a GS3, which they thought officious, but to me sounded like a grubby Vauxhall. My old da’ had seen an advert in the paper. He had retired from the council having worked in the museums, and retained a few connections.

“If you get in the cooncil, you could have a job for life son, and a decent pension.”

Quality da’ advice. Always dispensed from a sedentary position, sitting in his chair in our living room, smoking his pipe whilst listening to the radio or reading a book or newspaper.

I’d only been working for Mrs. Kingsley a few months when Teddy announced he was bringing his girlfriend home for Thanksgiving. I can still picture her face when she hung up the phone that afternoon. Like she’d sucked on a lemon and then got some juice in a papercut.

I was an avid reader myself. My friends and I had started a detective-fiction book club during the pandemic. We called ourselves the Code Red Gals. We were always on the lookout for new book ideas; and it occurred to me it would be neighbourly to share a conversation with Alberto about our books. It was clear his reading gave him immense joy. He always seemed to beam from ear to ear; having little moments of clarity as he read. I wondered if he was into crime and detective stories like my friends and I.

I scan around the room, seeking Nina but finding other familiar faces instead. Doug and Klaus, everyone’s favorite couple. I say that sarcastically, of course. People are so jealous of happiness these days. Myself included. They’re practically making love on the dance floor. I try to support the bold act; cannon fodder for the revenge of Oren and the like who would see Locust shut down. The young lovers don’t care. Why should they have to?

Especially when you said “This one isn’t me. It’s something I’ve never done before.”