When you lost your heart, I lost a friend. Someone I trusted never to change.
You parade your bitterness in late night bars.
Yet remember the time we visited London? I carry my books now in the souvenir tote bag I bought there, my invisible tribute to a friendship destroyed.
Madeleine McDonald wrote this story.
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.
We grow old together, the house and I. We inch towards the end of our useful lives, sustained by temporary repairs and fixes. I lose height; the foundations settle. The front door gleams with fresh paint and I dye my hair: we must present a brave face to the world.
Madeleine McDonald relishes the challenge of flash and micro-fiction, but has also published newspaper columns, short stories and romance novels.