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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 90 | volume XVI | May-June, 2013



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SLOVOKULT.DE
KRUG
BALKANI
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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 90May-June, 2013
Prose

My Piece of Happiness

(An excerpt from the novel)


/6
p. 1
Lewis Davies

1.
    George looked carefully at the job advertisement. ‘Earn Extra Cash. Paper Delivery. Hours Flexible, Easy Round.’
    Maybe he could do it. If he could get four quid an hour it wouldn’t be a bad rate. His eyes flicked over the other cards which hung in Collins’ window. ‘Child’s bike, £15. Bedspread, hardly used. Bridesmaid dresses, set of three. Unwanted wedding. Lost. Black and white terrier. Answers to “Boy”. Needs medication.’
    The door to the shop opened. A woman in a washed brown coat pushed past George, her head bowed into the wind which was rushing along Corporation Road.
    ‘Afternoon.’
    The woman looked up but didn’t smile.
    ‘You still around then?’
    ‘Think so.’
    Her head dipped. She pushed on.
    George returned to the window, then checked his watch. Another twenty minutes and he would have to be at Andy’s house. He straightened his collar, catching his reflection in the dirty glass. He had never been good at job interviews. A tin bell rang twice as he entered the shop.
    A man stood behind a rack of brightly coloured chocolates and sweets. He looked up as George walked towards him. George knew the man by name but he had never been in the shop before.
    ‘Collins, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yeh, that’s right mate. Can I help you?’
    ‘Enquiring about the job.’
    ‘What job?’
    ‘The one in the window.’
    ‘Paper deliverer?’ The man looked suspiciously at George. ‘Aren’t you a bit old for it?’ He had seen George around but had no idea who he was.
    ‘Didn’t say anything about age.’
    ‘I know that. I was just expecting a… er younger man. School kid perhaps.’
    George straightened his black tie. He could sense he was making Collins nervous. The newsagent shuffled a stack of magazines on the counter.
    ‘It’s been up there three weeks.’
    Collins stopped shuffling the magazines and rearranged his chocolate display. He was sure one of his customers had told him a story about the man in front of him. It was a funny story but it had made him uneasy and now he couldn’t remember what it was.
    ‘So?’
    ‘You can’t find anyone and I want to do it.’
    ‘Deliver papers?’ Collins dropped a Mars bar behind the counter. He hurriedly bent down to retrieve it but when he stood up again George was leaning over the counter, inches from his nose.
    ‘Unless you have something else?’
    ‘No, that’s it. Only job I’ve got left.’ He backed away from the counter but continued talking. ‘Papers come in on a Thursday morning. Round’s along the Embankment,


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