It was a humid, cloudy evening at around nine o’clock, and we were starving. Hana and I, waiting where Laurie’s street met a main West End vein, stood looking at the low, dark ceiling stretching above Glasgow.
‘There he is.’ I pointed at a tall figure coming along Bank Street in a buffalo skin coat.
‘Man it’s hot in this thing,’ were Laurie’s first words, jiggling the coat. ‘I’ll maybe just jump back to the flat and drop it…’
‘Can we just go to the shops, Laurie? We need some food.’
‘Alright, I am pretty hungry too,’ he agreed. [Read more…]