99 today

Dad would have been 99 today. Just one more year until he returned the telegram to sender. That small satisfaction was not to be.

They kissed and he got off the bus

They kissed and he got off the bus. He stood in the rain and waved from under his umbrella. But, head down, she was texting him goodbye.

“Open the book, hold it in front of you, breathe in the words through your eyes.” I was the only one who couldn’t. The book closed.

I followed the cross on the map you left on my heart, across the sea to the end of my world, I followed the cross on my heart to you.

It’s not complicated, said the alien. We created airports to run our stress engines. When we need more, we just whisper “security”.

End August Cromarty beach walk. Lemon sun shone through the salt-tang air. Over the horizon, beyond the rigs, winter breathed and shifted.

Single to Alloa.
Not coming back?
No, that’s my last time.
That’s a shame.
It’s the only way.
Well, see you then.
No. No.

“All improvement is change, but not all change is improvement” he said. Jim just gaped at him through the smoke and broken glass.

Swings and roundabouts, he said. Swings and roundabouts.
But I had to disagree. That’s no way to run an integrated transport system.

Her love was on a dimmer switch. Fading from light hard and bright and long, it disappeared with a click that broke his heart.