Score

The ball leaves your boot like the flame licks the spoon. Then, when it hits the back of the net, you need to score all over again.

Figure

It was a shapely figure, curves in all the right places and slim where necessary. “99”. Yes, he’d price the peaches at 99.

At the theatre? Div in front of you keeps moving his head? Just have to give him a wee tap on the ear? Don’t use the hand with the knife in.

The sun through the door lit up her last leaving. She leaves lightly, Ray thought, as he watched her silhouette, her hair a halo.

“Your gran was the pirate radio to my Radio 1, so she was.” Blank looks from the earphone generation. Tears streamed like music.

Jack cut out brown paper triangles and dipped the wetted peaks in flour. Stuck to the window, from his bed they looked like home.

Inviting me to stay over, my friend’s mum said to bring my slippers; I misheard, thought they had a swimming pool. Disappointing.

Stu burnt the letters. He should never have kept them, he should never have tied them up and kept them hidden. Nor the letters.

As I bent to dive, the pink medusa rippled. As I broke the water I twisted sideways but the tentacles striped my ribs and flank.

They said Hardy had a heart of stone. But when Rosa smiled her white light smile, colours exploded from the diamond in his chest.