Lunchtime Football

“Flower or crest?” Brian asked, thumb and forefinger resting expectantly under his fifty-cent coin. I glanced down at my gently curving waistline and promised myself I would work out over the holidays. “Uh… crest.” “Sure,” he said, then flicked his thumb and sent the coin spinning through the air. For a moment it hung, lazily, … More Lunchtime Football

Like the city, she always looked her best at night. We would be sitting on the quay, bare toes dipping lightly in the river, leaning back on our palms and watching the light from the bars slowly ripple out over the water. I would say something inane and stupid and she would turn away from … More