Yesterday’s Puddles

The guy outside number thirteen is draped over his gatepost. He wears a white duffer’s hat and greets me with happiness rooted in retirement. He’s seen the rise and fall of an empire. His voice is like a hairdryer as he gestures to the shattered cloud. Oil stirs in yesterday’s puddles. ‘Seen the forecast?’ he asks. I shake my head. ‘Me neither but it looks like a goodun.’

– Benjamin F Jones
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About Graphite Bunny

I am a writer working in South Wales (UK). I love pizza, photography and moist clay. When it rains I catch drops in my open mouth. I create poetry, flash, absurdist snapshots and humorous fiction.
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6 Responses to Yesterday’s Puddles

  1. A great image. There are many old fellows like him living in my town, as you can imagine.

    Sorry I haven’t got around to writing the promised email, but it will appear soon. When I’m writing a novel, it’s a very trying time for all my poor neglected friends, but some of them stick about. Hope you’re one of the patient ones 🙂

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