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Copyright © 1997 Mark Collins.
All rights reserved and reproduction without written permission expressly prohibited.
Going Green
The sky was a cold concrete grey, threatening to turn the
fine drizzle in to snow. You can be see it through the
curtainless window of an upper bedsit, altogether a frigid
room. Now the only thought in mind is to dress very
quickly. You forget about washing in that stinking
bathroom. Oh must the sudden, thundering voice of the radio-
alarm have had to come over so early in the morning and put
an end to the night's hours of peace? Had it been so
neccesary? You put your head in hands.
[End of this extract. The full story was published in
Pluto's Orchard #2, Autumn 1997]
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