No one at that dinner had been sleeping properly for weeks, and it wasn’t just the impossible heat of an impossibly long Auckland summer. My phone was ringing on the table, face down, slowly vibrating its way towards my lap. As it breached the edge the lit screen suddenly caught my eye in the darkness of the bistro, broke through my daze. I swung my free hand to grab it, throwing the red wine out of the glass in my other hand, in some kind of counterbalanced movement.
“F#*k, it’s Dom. What does he want?”…
This is a halfway2 guest post at the wonderful Fistful of Talent blog. Read the rest at Fistful of Talent…