You’re in front of me. I can taste battered sausage on your breath. Your shoulders are too wide to see a way out of the school gate. Your chain sits around your neck. I’m close enough to see it is fake gold and not the fallen teeth of other kids in my year group. It doesn’t matter I’m your brother’s mate, I stood too close to him earlier and I should’ve known better. I can’t stop looking at your chest hair. Where did you get them from?

© Carl Burkitt 2022