Skull, a Short Story By Tom Wigan
He leaned into me, blue eyes wide, face twitching.
‘My elbow’s fucked mate. I can barely open it further than this.’ An arm extended, palm facing up. ‘It’s from plasterin’ mate. Plasterin’ and wankin’.
His skin was blotchy and sagging. Bags were grey and oily under his eyes. He kicked a clump of mud off his boot. (more…)