Forward Surge

Everything was just as it had been the last time he’d come, except he couldn’t see her sculpture. He looked around as if it might have been blown down the road. He stopped a woman near to the Arts Centre, and said, ‘What happened to Forward Surge?’ She arched an eyebrow, and her eyes followed his bony finger to the patch of grass browning in the afternoon scorch. She apologised and clipped off without another glance, leaving behind a hint of perfumed leather. And the man selling coffee from a van was no more helpful, smiling and asking him what … Continue reading Forward Surge