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talks. They don’t see me. Is this enough. I am wondering. I walk now, the endless mile. Two people on bikes, they’re not allowed to be on their bikes here, there are signs. They ignore them or don’t care. Give me a prescription, even a small one of this ennui, this breaking of the rules. I shall take it every day, I won’t miss a dose taken as prescribed, I promise. I shall take it until I can cycle and leave it behind, pedalling and pedalling breaking local by-laws with glee. Perhaps this lobotomy of care is what I need, a purging of empathy, no longer shall I give a toss. She shouts to him and they both swerve nearly missing a couple who smile, enjoying the game and it’s OK. Can I swap places with any of them please. That was a polite please. Near the end now. A man passes and smells familiar of mothballs and old wooden wardrobes in the spare room. A 1950’s smell that I’m not old enough to remember, but I do and I think it must be a relative, one from childhood whom you visit never quite being sure about who they are and how they are related to you; in any case it doesn’t matter as someone is coming round with biscuits. He looks pre-occupied and were he not striding along he would be lost, if he keeps walking he can get through, just keep walking. He is wearing a T-shirt this sunny day which is too small for him but the only thing not needing a wash, I won’t see her anyway. ÉCLAT FICTION

21

MAY 2012

Profile for Eclat Fiction

Éclat Fiction - Issue 3  

The third issue of Éclat Fiction (an online short story anthology). www.eclatfiction.com

Éclat Fiction - Issue 3  

The third issue of Éclat Fiction (an online short story anthology). www.eclatfiction.com

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