Quick Reads

Another damned night. I’m drinking at The Dog’s Bollocks with friends. I’m regaling the lot with some cryptic analysis, which is what they enjoy from me. Feel a little tense, though, as if I’m waiting for a jump-scare. The conversation bounces on from their inner turmoils to their sex lives, and to how we should all just become strippers somewhere. I thoughtfully picture myself in skimpy lingerie, sliding around a pole.