Observations of The Urban Spaceman

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It was our weekly routine. A ceremony practised every Friday at 4.30pm. We’d stand at the bus stop, me in my Armani suit, shoulders hunched against the rain, him in his tweed trousers and flat cap, ambivalent about the weather. He’d nod his head at me, and give me a gap-toothed smile from that ancient, craggy face. “Friday again,” he’d say. “Thank God,” I would grin. “Out for a night on the… Read More