Klempner
In Arrivals, the baggage carousel takes f*****g ages to produce anything at all. After fifteen minutes, it vomits a small overnight case from the chute which travels a 360 circuit, drawing no more attention than muttering and complaints from the waiting crowd.
The ceilings are low and the air suffocating.
Could murder a beer...
Bored, I lean against a wall, ankles crossed, fishing my phone from a pocket.
Anything new?
A message pops up: James.
Hmmm...
The last time we spoke, he blasted me out for f*****g up his life.
The Sender has requested a Read Receipt - Yes/No?
I let my finger hover, then tap, Yes.
Shading the screen with a cupped hand against possible observers, I read James' message. Then, I re-read it.
Grandad K?
There's a thought that hadn't occurred to me.
