Time is money. Every second counts. He takes shortcuts, and shoots a red light at the big crossroads. He lies crushed, his insulated backpack spilling its contents over the tarmac. His bicycle wheel still spins. Someone dials 999.
Elsewhere in the city, impatient customers telephone the takeaway shop to complain.
Madeleine McDonald relishes the challenge of flash and micro fiction.
Every day in London, I live in fear of witnessing this story! You’ve captured it.
I too see delivery drivers taking suicidal risks. For what pay? Much of our comfort and convenience relies on modern slavery or quasi-slavery somewhere along the line.