“Are you a book reviewer?” she asks
from the café table opposite me.
“Pardon?” I say.
“Are you a book reviewer?” she asks
nodding towards the book in my hands.
“I’m not, no,” I say.
“That’s a shame,” she tuts
biting into her cinnamon swirl.
“Why so?” I say.
“It would make you more interesting
than a man reading kids books.”
“Right,” I say
returning to my story about a little boy
who has turned into a superhero and exploding her with my super wicked laser eyes.

Carl Burkitt 2024