Nuts, Cars and Old Women (from the “NUTS!” collection)

We got chatting.

I normally don’t talk to strangers in bars, but his eyes were compelling and he wore a thin layer of vulnerability, like hand-me-down knitwear that had no ‘give’ to it anymore.

I watched him eat all the cashews in the bowl before starting on the almonds.  I didn’t say that this bothered me.  A lot.

Instead I mentioned that my car was at the mechanics getting a new front-end fitted.  I’d lost my licence on account of having run down a not-so-little old lady.  My car was a wreck, but she’d bounced very well – for an octogenarian.


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